The buckets were merely simple buckets. The plain-white-plastic kind of buckets. There’s no significant whatsoever that made theses buckets spectacular. If they stood by themselves, they were just buckets at the farmer’s market. But how some zinnias, goldenrods, asters and dahlias could make these buckets into something worth to look at. How their pinks, purples, yellows, reds and whites could splash some colors unto these undistinguished white buckets, like a blank canvas being painted on. Flowers amazingly are meant to beautify the containers they’re in.
Far away, it seems, in a land where the sun always shines, where the sky opens up and the air smells sweet, there’s a field full of sunflowers. Rows upon rows of breathtaking flowers, nodding and swaying. Nestled behind the stone fences that stand for hundreds of years, secluded between the tree shadows. If you keep silence, all you hear is the sounds of bees buzzing, moving from one flower to the next. They won’t even feel bothered, there’s plenty of flowers that you can admire. When you walk between the long stalks and the heavy flowers, you might feel lost. You might feel small. There in the land of summer, the sunflowers are the giants. Before you leave, you might want to make a wish, for another visit to a far away land, where the sun always shines, the sky opens up and the air smells sweet. Because if you have to get lost, why don’t you get lost amongst the sunflowers?
The wind from the north comes rushing in, pushing aside August.
The light is dimmer.
The chill is staying. Where has summer been gone?
Blue sky is rare, grey came upon days and days.
My dream of summer is near the end, do I dare say farewell?
For September has another promise, of life, of love, of laughter.
Oh, joy! Let autumn come and rejoice!
But before the crisp air settles in, and the leaves change their colors,
Let summer be seen once more!
(Photos taken around the town’s green where I live).
Some places are meant to be visited more than once. Because although they may seem the same in shapes, their surroundings may change from time to time. The first time we came to one place, we created some memories. Then when the second time came, to visit it once more, those memories might add or replace by the new ones. When I visited this historical place called OLD STURBRIDGE VILLAGE in 2002, in Massachusetts, with my family and a couple of friends, I never thought that I would visit it again three times. Back than, we had a lot of fun and since our children were still toddlers, the significant history and other interesting parts of this live museum, seemed didn’t matter much. We only saw the museum as a place to be, nothing more to it. It’s simply recreational. Years gone by, and my younger daughter who was 14 months-old back in 2002, was a 5th grader two years ago. She and her class planned a school trip to visit the same Old Sturbridge Village, and I was asked to chaperone them. I loved to go there again, to catch up what I missed the first time I came. This time, I joined the 5 students under my watch, to learn the same things they would learn about the stories and facts about the place and matters, and to create new memories.
When we visited Old Sturbridge Village, it was just 6 months after Hurricane Sandy wreak havoc in New England. The devastation was still present when we reached this outdoor museum. The damaged and uprooted trees were strewn about, toppled on top one another. It’s eery. That scene was a little bit different when I had another chance to chaperone, this time my youngest’ , just two weeks ago. New plants have emerged and the open space where there used to be some trees standing, were more lush with some brushes and baby trees. We were greeted by so many wildflowers that grow covering the meadows. The water was a little bit high from the big rain before and it reached parts of the dirt road. It was my third times visiting the place, and it felt like going back to a place I knew well. The three boys under my guide wandered here and there wondering about things that attracting them. They tried pumping an old water pump located in the middle of the village. It was hard and they had to be patient waiting for the water to come out. Oh, the joy they exclaimed when after a while the water sprouted out! As we took our journey further, I added another memory to the ones I’ve had before, especially since that day was my son’s birthday. He sure was a happy 10-year old all day.
While sitting with another mom on a coach bus two days ago, who was also chaperoning our childrens’ class on a school trip, I showed her my blog and photographs. She said,”You must love flowers a lot” and I thought,”What’s not to love about flowers?” They are a feast for our eyes. From a miniscule ones that grow wild, to the big ones that only found in a jungle. Flowers are the perfect decorations for any occasion. They’re the perfect touch of nature, and among the many kinds of flowers I’ve seen at Elizabeth Park, in Hartford, Irises were there in many exuberant colors. We visited the park two weeks ago and I was glad that the park was in full bloom. Like rainbow in the garden, Irises in yellow, pink, purple, and the color mix that so muddled, you won’t find that sort of colors in a color dictionary. They’re simply fabulous!
“The Amen of nature is always a flower.”
-Oliver Wendell Holmes-
(P.S. If you happen to pass by Hartford, Connecticut, come by the Elizabeth Park. You will find this park as a good place to unwind and feast your eyes.)
The graveled space looks more like an appendix of the main road, rather than a real road. For sometimes, the space was used to accommodate several cars during some events like the school’s fun day two weeks ago. It’s a dead-end road with big bushes and trees that grow in some part, and in June some wildflowers thrive there and bloom beautifully. Among those wildflowers were phlox, in purple and light pink, also in the mix of them, light pink flowers with a touch of purple. They were the attraction on that unattractive space. Sprouting here and there, swaying to and fro when the warm breeze blew. The nuance of it was a reminder that sometimes, all we need is the simple touch of nature to create that wonderful feeling inside.
“To see a world in a grain of sand and heaven in a wildflower hold infinity in the palm of your hand and eternity in an hour.”
To my mother,
Today marks the year two of February 17th, when she’s gone away.