Pizza. Pumpkins & Fireworks.

 

                                            Roses, Carnations or Daffodils?

I had quite the busy day yesterday so I was unable to write. I was going to say that I was to busy but to say that would mean that I didn't care enough to make the time and that statement just isn't true.

     As I am sure you are aware, Halloween is approaching within the next few days. That means "scary" parties, Pumpkin carving contests - endless Trunk or Treating for the kids. Night after night - costume wearing after costume wearing.  
     I can only write so much about the endless candy the kids keep getting and will continue to get - well into the weeks following this wonderful sugar high holiday. It is almost time for the sales to start, right? Honestly, who can pass up a good sale even though there is enough chocolate in the house already to fill half of Belgium - if you find the 10 pound bags for $3.00 - you have just got to have more.

Last night after I went to bed I thought about a subject to write on. Like, what could it have been for yesterday? Certainly not the Great Pumpkins Arrival again. I fell asleep trying to come up with something.

Most of today while I watched for the rain that never came, made muffins and put dinner in the crockpot, my mind still traced outlines of what would keep not only myself but others interested.

Tonight while watching an episode of Melissa & Joey - yes, I am a sucker for those "perfect" kind of romances and after I found out at some point the two of them fall in love, marry, have a child ... I tune in every night to root them on. Tonight they are where my inspiration came from.

     Joey brings Melissa some flowers.

I have never really been given flowers much. Like, once when I was younger - those I will never forget. The guy who gave them to me, we are still friends. If he is reading this - thank you! You don't have any clue the impact they had on me.

My husband also "got" me flowers once. We were driving down an endless road - it was pouring with the ground muddy. He pulled to the side of the road and jumped out of the door. Darting across this "but why" field - he grabbed me a handful of his favorite wild growing things - "Indian Paintbrush" bringing them back to me. They were soaked as was he. I still have those on my wall. It has been like 20 years. They have faded much but each time I look at them they are still as vibrant as the day he handed them to me - standing in wet dirt to his ankles.

My son, Mighty also sent me flowers once. I still feel my eyes well up whenever I think about it. It was random. It was for no reason. He just wanted to say that he loved me. He sent them to my work which of course made me feel like the Queen that I am. I love those flowers. They are so brittle - crunchy now even. They sit on my shelf next to my Porcelain Chyna Doll and my 3 bottles of Roddy Piper Bubble Gum Soda. Need I say more?

My grandmother though. The Redmond House gave way to almost a magical garden in the back yard. After walking out the back door, you would pass under this huge grape arbor that often housed a momma possum & her babies. The yard itself was huge, green, flowing. We had a beautiful maple tree that shaded us in the summer, gave the squirrels a home in the autumn. There were plum trees, cherry trees and a huge swimming pool and though all those things were everything - the one thing that meant the most to me was when Spring would come knocking on our door.

     My grandmother grew up on Tiger - Cougar Mountain in Issaquah. She was raised on a dirt road, home in the woods with her family. Sadly the home had burnt long before I ever came along so I only heard stories about it. She had told me that she lost everything in that fire. Even her letters from a pen pal - Amelia Earhart. She did though save one small thing.

As the sun would try to pry my eyes open before I ever wanted to wake and face the day, my Grandmother would go out into our backyard and return with a small treasure.

Getting a "root beer" shot glass - filling it with water ... she would place the first 3 tiny little Forget-Me-Nots that she had picked from under the window, the little plant she carried with her from her home to our home. She would sneak into my room setting the glass on my nightstand, slipping back out before I stirred. It only took seconds - the air was blanketed in the soft breeze of a summer soon coming. 

Closing my eyes, I still see those tiny purple things, smelling their sweetness, feeling my grandmothers hug - sharing her love through the first flowers to bloom in the new season.

                                                                                                                             Kazz 💋