Tag: seasons

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Remembering Memorial Day

There was a little teeny tiny peony bush stranded under the magnolia tree on the east side of our house. It never grew very much, so last summer I finally transplanted it to a better place. This May, it has bloomed brilliantly in its new home.

My pretty pink peony bush

I love peonies. The buds are so nice and plump, and little ants love crawling all over their curves. When they finally bloom, peonies are an explosion of texture and color.

Peonies remind me of growing up in a small, rural town in the 70′s. The peonies would always be in bloom on Memorial Day, and my sister and I would go to the neighbor’s yard to cut the full, red blooms, wrap wet paper towels around the stems, and surround the paper towel with a plastic baggie. Then, my family would get in the car and drive out to the cemetery in the country. It was a beautiful cemetery, green and surrounded by trees. We would put the flowers and maybe a small flag on the graves of soldiers. My sister and I would run around the gravestones as people gathered for a Memorial Day service. Veterans wore their uniforms. I can still hear the gun salute echoing among the gravestones, as we remembered those who gave their lives for our country.

I wonder if there will be a gathering at the cemetery outside of that small town today. My family moved to the suburbs in the early 80′s, so I doubt my little brother and sister remember how we used to commemorate Memorial Day. Even though we will not be carrying flowers to the grave of a soldier, I will remember all those who fought for our freedom.

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Go Fly a Kite

It was the kind of Sunday afternoon when all I wanted to do was lie down and “rest” my eyes. We had just gotten home, and after singing in the church choir and teaching Sunday school to rambunctious sixth graders, the couch was calling my name. But alas, when you are the mother of little girls, lying down is not an option. Let me take that back; lying down is an option if you know that two certain little girls are going to start jumping on the same couch you are lying on. Ed was no help; he was outside spraying the heck out of the dandelions in the yard. I put on my jacket and got out the kites.

kite flying among the dandelions

It was the kind of Sunday afternoon where the wind felt just right. Gusts of wind were already tugging at the kite in the parking lot. Getting our sea turtle into the air took little effort, and both the girls were able to hold the kite string as the kite soared above them. It wasn’t too long, however, before the wind died down. The kite was not catching a breath of air. We walked over to another field, where there was more open space and less trees to block the wind. But then the rain set in. As we jogged back to the parking lot, the taller little girl lagged behind, crying bitterly. Her afternoon of kite flying was at an end.

It was the kind of Sunday afternoon where frozen pizzas were thrown into the oven and a DVD was thrown into the player. We snuggled under blankets, tears dried, little heads slightly rain-damp. The DVD made us laugh, the pizza filled our tummies, but it was the snuggling that helped ease the disappointment of a rainy afternoon.

Wishing for a kite-flying kind of Sunday afternoon to come around soon,

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