Wildflowers: Subtle Influence of Generations Past

A flock of goldfinches
dances among morning-light-basked
coreopsis, sunflowers, and coneflowers
in our once-sterile and lawned,
now wildflower-laden, front yard.

A bright red cardinal
flutters amongst
a glowing-flowered rose bush,
as if thinking the red petals
were competition.

I muse at how,
years prior,
the landlady had demanded:
“Cut down these weeds!
I just want a well-kept lawn!”

Now, in spring,
as new plants arise,
she carefully takes
lawnmower or weed-wacker,
and carves paths that avoid wildflowers.

As summer beckons,
her cautious paths let us
leisurely stroll through
bright pinks, whites, yellows, purples, blues, reds.
We become surrounded by and absorbed in Nature.

What made the change?
What turned this orderly hostess
demanding sterile, well-manicured lawns,
to one who could see and rejoice
in the colorful riot of wildflowers?

My grandparents,
(who she never met),
and their parents
were known for the flowers
and fruits they kept.

The family joke was
how the Sheboygan matriarch
grew her veggies and flowers
in the bathtub.
Beauty before cleanliness.

The tradition carried on,
as my grandmother taught
her children and grandchildren
to enjoy and relish nature.
“How beautiful!”

Grandmother’s children, too, 
(oft to the chagrin of neighbors),
invited wildflowers and native plants
instead of sterile and invasive species
to grow and thrive and bring beauty and life.

So now their children and grandchildren
leave patches of wild plants,
riotous color for the birds, bees, butterflies;
pollinators who gladly cavort and dance
the way their ancestors did.

As willing witnesses, we get to feel
the swelling in our hearts
and the welling of our eyes,
as we join with them in this
ancient dance in the wildflowers.

Read more about how the landlady of Spirit Tree Farms, Marnie Kuhns, transformed from loving lawns to wooing wildflowers, birds, and pollinators in her book about finding peace in Nature and God’s Creations.

Accepting Old People Where They Are: Revolutionary Prose

A Facebook friend posted this thought: “You don’t need to “orient” the elderly, even if they have dementia. Spend time with them where they are at … even if it’s 1959. Ask them about what they do remember.” To which I responded:
“When my grandmother was going through that phase, where she couldn’t remember things even a few minutes after they happened, I had this thought: Old people get to that phase so they can pass their knowledge and wisdom and stories from long long ago onto to the next generation. She could remember the name of her four-year-old best friend, but she couldn’t remember what she had for breakfast that morning. So I asked her about her four-year-old neighbor and her childhood and the first time she saw an airplane. I learned how to fillet a fish. I played endless hours of cribbage and listened to stories and got to ask questions and watch her face light up as she remembered things she hadn’t thought of in decades. I spent months going through the years of 1920 to 1990 with her, looking at old photo albums, making video and audio recordings. She talked about those memories and photos as if the events captured had happened yesterday. Because to her, they probably had. It was an amazing experience.
As a result my children have heard and know more “Grandma stories” than my father, her eldest son. I’m grateful I took the time to listen about yesterday, instead of trying to force her into today.”