Flowers I Have Known

Grandma Chandler’s house in Mukilteo
Hydrangea
​– purple and blue

Seattle - 2343 B
Snowball bush
​– yes, we had a snowball fight with them

Forget-me-not
​– spindly, stretching up, along the fence by the back gate

Tulip –
a single red tulip, by the drain spout mud puddle where I made mud pies and shared the mud with big dauber wasps (side by side play)

Big purple bearded iris
​– sneaking out from the board fence of the people on the corner

Yellow and red Snap dragons
– stolen surreptitiously in 2nd grade on the way home from school
- so much guilt - stealing flowers is a crime against humanity
- so much joy - making the thing snap open and shut

Lily-of-the-Valley
- one of the best fragrances in all the world
- an ancient row in a flower bed no one could see adjacent to our cottage,
between our house and the neighbor's,
she of the penciled-in highly arched, scary looking, Jean Harlow eyebrows, a smoker, died and her cottage left untended for weeks - my dad finally started mowing her lawn and other upkeep on her yard
. . . but the flower strip was 18" deep and 12 feet long, packed full of the most fragrant flower in all the world. 

Woods near Seattle
Violets
– little ones in the forest

Blackberries – in flower not so interesting, but good to come back to.

Morel mushrooms
​– fungi but as beautiful as any flower

Wenatchee
Cherry Tree
​– blossoms of no particular interest, okay but no memorable smell.
Giant monster of a tree with five main limbs coming out of a huge base that had a crack down the side where it had been struck by lightning.
You could just shimmy your toes in the bottom of the crack and get a toe hold and then lunge up the tree to the first big limb.
Rest a moment and then climb up the main branch to a nest in the sky.
Read Nancy Drew and Judy Bolton (no more than one a day!) and in the right season, eat the best cherries of your life
​ . . . just reach up and pick ‘em.

Apple blossoms
– The whole town smelled good when the apple blossoms were in bloom.
Walking through clouds of pink.
The Apple Blossom Festival:
marching in the parade, first in fourth grade, as a pioneer,
then as a starling,
then a bug.
7th grade in drill team in a pink gingham dress your mom had to make
with no sleeves,
underneath you wore a white blouse with a collar,
black shoes.
White socks.
​White Gloves.

Lilacs
- So many on the bushes that Mom cut off huge bouquets, wrapped them in newspaper, and sent them to school with us. I gave Mrs. Vanderpool the wonderful smelling bunch and she actually liked something I did. That was a one-off. She put them in a giant vase and they brightened the room and smelled delicious.

Red poppies
- most interesting in fall - as dried out geometric rattles

Pansies
– my father planted them by the kitchen door. They did well and were lovely.

Nearby Wenatchee
Lupine

Sage brush – not a flower but a smell of the high plateau that I miss. Someday I plan to go back to the high plateau and smell the sage brush. Perhaps I'll even see a tumbleweed blowing down the road . . .