Dandelions, daisies & buttercups
It's strange how memories come flooding back while repeating actions from your childhood. While teaching chair yoga this week we practiced some deep breathing exercises, they included reaching out to pick an imaginary dandelion "clock" or "puff" as it seems they are called here in the States. As a class we inhaled as deep as possible so that we could blow those dandelion seeds and spread them far and wide, a gardeners nightmare.
This obviously brought back enjoyable memories for the class, I am sure it is something most of us have done in our childhoods.
I remember holding out the fluffy ball of seeds, counting each big breath shouting "one o'clock, two o'clock etc until all the seeds had been blown far and wide. Each spring my dad would be out there in the garden with his special tool for digging deep and rooting out the dandelion plants, hoping to finally eliminate them from his beautiful lawn. It never happened. Decades later with my own garden, being environmentally and bee friendly I love seeing the bright yellow flowers in our yard each year. The "clocks" when formed blow their tiny seeds off into the air in hope of finding a like minded gardener who will let them thrive, giving pollen to the insects that need it. It has been years since I blew on one of these, perhaps next spring I will bring out my inner child and enjoy those happy memories of childhood games.
Another pastime as a young girl was making daisy chains, with friends or on my own, sitting for hours making daisy crowns, necklaces, bracelets or just really long chains. The challenge would be transporting these creations to show my mum as she sat drinking tea with her friends or on her own. They would often break, sometimes resulting in tears after all my hard work, sometimes repairable and often not. Even my poor cat was "treated" to wearing a crown or necklace on occasion. At least these were quick and easy to make as they were so small. It was always sad to find these tiny pretty flowers completely shriveled and dried up the next morning. The longer lasting ones were those that made it into a small vase that would sit on the counter in the kitchen or sometimes into my bedroom. I loved how the tiny flowers would close up their petals so tightly each evening and once the warm sunshine touched their patch of grass they gradually opened up to absorb and delight in the sun's rays. Similar to myself, I love to sit in the warmth of the sun, actually I am doing this right now as I type. A freezing cold day here in New England, enjoying the warmth of the sun shining in through the window, blissful. The poor daisies were often mutilated when "he loves me, he loves me not" was played, pulling off one petal at a time saying those words out loud to see if some imaginary hero of our future would love us or not.
Buttercups were fun too, their small yellow flowers a prize for our tiny vase, holding them up close under each others chins to see if we liked butter or not, of course we all did of course as the reflection of the delicate flower shone brightly on our skin. Sadly I haven't seen too many of these in years. Many years later when my boys were still young enough to enjoy picking flowers they would bring me small bunches of wildflowers. I am sure we even made daisy chains when they were really small, they do occasionally still bring me flowers. Just seeing this picture below takes me back to pressing my nose into the blooms and inhaling their distinctive fragrance.
Such sweet memories from doing something as ordinary as breathing. Do you have similar memories? If so please share.