I think hard and come up with dandelions, violets and clovers. Yes, those make up my earliest memories of flowers. We had no fancy garden. We had no garden at all. My little hands plucked wild stems from between soft, fragrant blades of grass. I remember little knees tinted green from the gathering of tiny bouquets. I sit with those fond memories a bit.
My heart still sings for flowers. Daffodils bloomed today in the pot on the table while winter wind wildly whipped our tall trees’ bare branches. You wouldn’t know it by today’s weather, but spring’s on the way. I can't wait to get out there and get my knees dirty.
