Flower-y Prose

I've been thinking about flowers. Especially wildflowers. Don't they have the prettiest names?

Blackeyed Susan.

Forget-me-not.

Dutchman's Breeches.

Bachelor's Buttons.

Morning Glory--my mother used to say, "morning glory--the Glory of the Morning!"

Dogtooth Violet.

Of course, there are many more. Spring beauty. Mayapple. Wild geranium. Snapdragons. Jack-in-the-Pulpit. I'm sure you could add to the list.

Then there is Queen Anne's Lace, with the little blood-red floweret in the middle. I had always heard that it was named for Henry VIII's wife Anne Boleyn, and the "drop of blood" was hers because he, well, beheaded her, you know. But wikipedia says it is for another Queen Anne, and the blood was from when she pricked her finger with a needle while making her "lace."

Such quaint names. Such pretty things. How wonderful our Father is, to have created flowers, not only for their usefulness, but for our enjoyment. The fragrance of the wildflowers is generally more delicate than that of their domesticated cousins. Your nose has to be "tuned in" to enjoy them. But what a delight, walking through a wood or along a roadside in the springtime, to catch the fragrance, then to look for the culprits, off the beaten path!

Evidently, flowers are important to people in general. Every state has its "own" flower. When my mother was in school (1930's), the state flower of Indiana was the zinnia. Somewhere along the line, they changed it to the peony. Or, as my grandmother, along with most country folks, called it, the "piney." She was so proud of her "piney bushes" in May. Flowers are even "national" sometimes. The Japanese have their Chrysanthemum throne. I'm sure there are others.

So, I've just been thinking about flowers. Maybe you can take a few minutes and think about flowers today, as well. And don't forget to thank your Father for sharing!