Today, I embarked on a delightful nature walk adventure in our lush pasture. Armed with the ingenious Plant Parent app, I eagerly identified a myriad of enchanting species – 20 different varieties of flowers, herbs, trees, and even a few tenacious weeds. The vibrant landscape also teemed with a kaleidoscope of butterflies, flitting gracefully through the air. As I strolled along, the serenity of the surroundings transported me back to my cherished childhood memories. I found myself immersed in nostalgic reverie, recalling the treasured moments spent with my beloved grandmother, Mary K. Porter. Together, we embarked on countless nature walks, joyfully gathering various wildflowers and capturing the fleeting beauty of butterflies. A few of our favorites were Texas Thistle, Indian Paintbrush, and Snow on the Mountain. Occasionally, we would even pluck gourds, envisioning trying to transform them into charming birdhouses.
Like a cherished ritual, we often packed a simple lunch of a sandwich, fruit, and shoestring potatoes, with my plastic Smurfs lunch box as a handy companion. It didn’t ever just hold our lunch. When finished eating we’d use it for small items we may have found, such as an interesting rock or to carry our gourds. Seeking respite beneath the shade of a majestic tree, we would enjoy the simple pleasure of our shared meal. In those days, the absence of plant identification apps was inconsequential. Instead, we would eagerly return to her home, where an array of books awaited us, guiding our exploration and enabling us to identify not only butterflies and wildflowers but also the diverse species of birds we, also, encountered during our nature walks.
Regrettably, my blissful reverie was interrupted by my husband’s gentle inquiry about my prolonged absence. My original intention had been to dispose of tree branches in our ever-expanding brush pile. Sheepishly, I confessed that I had succumbed to delightful distractions, seduced by the allure of picking wildflowers. Additionally, I had carelessly dropped my glove, which compelled me to momentarily break away from my fun, retrieve it, and fulfill the responsibility of unloading the trailer.
If you have read to this point, I am very thankful for your dedication. Furthermore, should you possess any cherished memories of my grandmother, Mary K. Porter, I warmly invite you to share them in the comments below.