brown eyed susans reprise

There used to be a big field where a couple cows roamed freely near where I lived It wasa strange little island of the country on that city block, completely out of place and unexpected.  I remember always thinking about how tranquil it was to turn and look at it for a moment before pulling out onto the busy street and losing the tranquility to traffic.  I was surprised the day I realized that it was covered in wild flowers... brown eyed Susans.   My favorites are the weeds... daisies, sunflowers and these yellow and brown flowers of late summer.

Have you ever tried to pick one? Tried to snap it at the bottom? It’s very hard, they are strong as nylon rope and they grow without any assistance from us. That is a flower worth admiring.  Self sufficient and adapting to what nature throws at it  then finding a way to bloom joyously just about anywhere it can find a tiny patch of earth.

  

My dad knew my favorite flower was the daisy and next to that this wild yellow one- they grow everywhere here in late summer and into the fall. For many years he filled my home up with the color of a sleepy summer  afternoon. For as long as he lived near me he carried a pair of small garden pruners in his glove box.  So that from August through late September my house was full of those roadside blooms - he would stop and cut me a bunch every chance he got  as he noticed them while he was driving.   He knew they were tough and never arrogantly tried  to break them off at the stem. Thus the shears that lived in his van, he was always prepared.  He’d carefully snip them like they were fine roses.  Never underestimate the value of a simple kind gesture.

Now, many years  after his passing I continue to pay the kindness back in the same way. He’s buried at the Veterans Cemetery in Leavenworth Kansas where the rows and rows of white headstones line the hills stoically.  It's always made me sad that so few of them ever have flowers. 

So I bring him daisies to his grave as often as I can and when the wild yellow started to bloom, I am ready. I carry the same pruners in my glove box and end up with so many flowers by the time I get up there that I make sure to share my gift with everyone else buried on his row. 

I haven't been up to see him as often since I've been sick, in fact yesterday I saw many many brown eyed susans on my way back from my failed chemo appt. It hit me harder than usual to think about him- I missed him so much at that moment and the memory of him with his arms full of flowers coming to my front door. It made me reflect on how much things change and how much things stay the same.  

My dad passed away in 2003, yet he had been bringing me flowers for so many years before that. Now many years after, the blooms still pop up at the same time each year. I often wonder if God took him when he did because all of this would have broken his heart to see; my being widowed, the stroke and now the cancer. I prefer to imagine him as my angel not here grieving for my troubles. 

We can choose to bring in a couple of weeds from the roadside and treat them with care as if they were expensive roses or ignore them until our cars have splashed mud and muted the yellow out of them. If we bring them in they will bring color, brightness  and joy to our life.

Regardless they will be back with as much perserverence and happiness as the first time you noticed them. Year after year. Lets learn from the weeds in our fields by relentlessly coming back and trying time and time again 

Thats what I'm doing next week when I go back to chemo...