Faith, Folklore, and Friends

As for man, his days are like grass—he blooms like a flower of the field;  when   the wind   passes   over,   it vanishes,   and its place   remembers it   no   more.   But from everlasting to everlasting the loving devotion of the LORD extends to those who fear Him, and His righteousness to their children’s children—…Psalm 103:15-17

They say that our olfactory sense is the last to go; that up 'til the end when our memories of names and faces and places are gone, we can remember certain smells.  I can instantly remember the smell of burning leaves, the richness of a plowed field after a summer rain, and potatoes frying in a skillet.  I can remember the smell of mimeograph machine ink from fifty years ago, and the Vick's salve that Mama rubbed on our throats.  I remember waking up to the smell of coffee and bacon cooking every morning of my childhood.  Nothing smelled as good as honeysuckle. We knew it was spring then, when we played outside by the porch light and our bare feet got slick with dew, and it was like being in a perfume factory with the wild honeysuckle blooming along fence rows and road sides.  Later, when we were dating, we rode those country roads with the car windows down, listening to music with the smell of honeysuckle intensifying the young love being born. ...

The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land; ~Song of Solomon 2:12

More than six years ago, before my baby boy married his bride, Rachel, she gifted me with a pot of amaryllis  at Christmas.  Amaryllis bulbs are easily forced to bloom during the holidays.  Because I am prone to kill plants in pots, after we had enjoyed the amaryllis blossoms, I put it in a flower bed outside, and forgot about it.  Apparently, it thrives on neglect. I planted some comfrey for its medicinal qualities, and it has spread over the area where the amaryllis is planted.  This spring, the narrow strap-like leaves pushed through the comfrey, and then produced these blooms. It brightens up the back yard like fairies in red dresses, and the bees love it.  Can you see the pollen? From that single bulb, I counted seventeen blooms this years. (Yes, I count flowers.  Yes, I do have a life.)  The bulbs probably need to be separated, but I hesitate to touch them while they are doing so well.  I'll think about it next ye...

While we were rambling Saturday,  Steph and I visited the Huntsville Botanical Garden. It is huge and alive with color.  All these photos are from the Butterfly House that is just a small part of the gardens.  When you go through the door, it is like stepping into another world with butterflies everywhere!     Looks like I got an extra in this photo.       We only had about three hours there, not nearly enough.  Sounds like another road trip to me!