Won­ders of Wild­flow­ers

Country - - OUT & ABOUT - KATHE BRYANT Plain­field, Indiana

As a child, I shared my fam­ily’s love of flow­ers and the out­doors. In the sum­mer, we of­ten played in mead­ows and made neck­laces, bracelets and wreaths out of white and red clover. We looked for long-stemmed blue meadow sage and ad­mired del­i­cate pink wild roses along fencerows. Bril­liant red pop­pies, blue bach­e­lor’s but­tons and white daisies grow­ing around bor­ders of wheat fields formed some of our most beau­ti­ful bou­quets. My hus­band and I used to own 10 acres of wood­land. We camped, boated, swung from grapevines and tromped through the woods. Dur­ing one spring and sum­mer, I noted 48 kinds of wild­flow­ers. There was a gi­ant flat rock near one of our trails that we called the “flower rock.” A blan­ket of old fallen leaves pro­duced a fer­tile bed on top of it. As many as a dozen wild­flow­ers would bloom there. And we had a creek with Vir­ginia blue­bells bloom­ing on both sides. I will al­ways re­mem­ber the never-end­ing sight of blue and that sweet fra­grance in the air.

BECKY GRANT Glea­son, Wis­con­sin

Braylee loves pick­ing wild lupines. She’s a coun­try girl en­joy­ing na­ture’s beauty.

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