Friday, April 28, 2017

A flower's bud is pure memory

A few days before, I spot these familiar buds -- tight pods of color -- and I think peonies.  The rational mind shouts "impossible, if not improbable."  Childhood is marked by a hedge of peonies and ants.  Vivid memory -- 60 years, plus.  Ha, again and this time --factual.  Indeed, multiple peony plants.  I'm in heaven as I recall my first favorite food & author.  If you guessed, cheeseburger and Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, we're in sync.

1 comment:

  1. Speaking of walking through flowers, it seems the wild flowers of my grandmother's house were most memorable. Tall, scraggly, full of menace and mystery, we ran through them on the way down the path. We weren't supposed to go there, I don't think. That made the pollen on our shirts a telltale sign of trespass. How wonderful the feeling of going out of bounds, how it would always stay with us.