Picking wildflowers, I remember doing so. My most vivid memories of flower picking are going for walks with my grandmother. She always had wildflower bouquets on her table, most often picked by her grandkids. I would also pick with my mom. We'd fill entire baskets when daisies were in bloom and then deliver them to nursing home residents. I remember my mom helping me make dandelion crowns, that I would sport with pride. I remember picking a favorite flower to tuck behind my ear as I was walking back to our pond to catch frogs. I remember going on walks along side of the road or in the pasture with my dad and he'd help me label the wildflowers. I loved picking flowers with all of them and I have always loved a bouquet on the table. Just about 365 days a year, there's a bouquet resting in the middle of our dining table. Most often, home grown and hand picked from our yard, but I tend to splurge on flowers mid winter. A little color and scent has always made a house a home.
So many of these spring days, my littles are drawn to hand picked beauty. They collect and I help them label. Right now, we have daisies, dandelions, buttercups, vetch, red and white clover, all of which they know. Naturally, there's always a bit of hay in such vases as well, seeing as I birthed a little farmer. Their arrangements fill vases upon vases. Little bits of beauty pop up in every room. Just last week, there were 8 cups filled with dandelions in the upstairs bathroom. "They are for you to enjoy, mama."
And that I do.