Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a…

May 7, 2016 | 3 comments

Buttercups Galore!

Buttercups Galore!

Nor do I much care what Rhett was talking about.  What I’m talking about are buttercups and this headline I saw recently:  “Physicists find out why buttercups make your chin glow yellow.”  Who cares, for Heaven’s sake?  We all know what it means.  We don’t need to know why it happens!

Yesterday I walked outside to pick some flowers and came across a whole patch of “lawn” that’s almost solid buttercups.  We should probably be digging or spraying or re-seeding or something but, instead, I wanted to sit down with one of my childhood friends and find out if she liked butter.  That’s the whole purpose of buttercups as I see it.

A Field Full of Wishes

A Field Full of Wishes

Never mind that everybody liked butter, according to the buttercup test!  I knew there was something ‘off’ about that, but I figured it was tied up with sunshine, somehow; the test never worked as well on an overcast day.  And, I don’t remember anyone ever saying, “But I don’t like butter!”  That would have been just plain wrong.  After all, what’s not to like?

Those little tiny daisies – also the scourge of the lawn Nazis – were another source of summertime delight.  We spent hours making daisy chains of them.  They became crowns or necklaces or ankle bracelets.  If there were no daisies to be found, we used dandelions but it was far better not to pick them; instead, we let them go to seed.  Then you could make a wish and blow… It never occurred to us that we were sowing next season’s crop – only that our wish would come true if the entire puffy ball dispersed.

At the End of Oysterville Road, 1940s

At the End of Oysterville Road, 1940s

We hunted for four leaf clovers and chewed on sour grass and made whistles out of wide blades held ‘just right’ between our thumbs.  To say nothing of knowing where to watch for the first ripening blackberries and spending hours in the dunes at the end of Oysterville Road looking for wild strawberries.

Will a lawn full of buttercups conjure up all those memories for the grown-up children of seventy years hence?   Will they know (or care) about daisy chains or Rhett Butler or turning cartwheels ten times in a row?  About that, Scarlett, I do give a damn.  I do, indeed!

3 Comments

  1. Nora

    Wow Sydney….you stirred a million memories for me this morning, thank you.

    Reply
  2. Cate Gable

    Fabulous walk back in time. We count on you for this! Thx.

    Reply
  3. Betty LeFevre

    Lovely memories. I doubt today’s children’s memories will be the same, and surely not as much fun as ours. What’s to remember fondly about video games?

    Reply

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