When she arrived home from work she was harried and tired. First, it was fix supper and then there was that meeting at the school. Hurriedly she entered the back door, throwing her coat and purse on the chair. “Oh I know. We haven’t had sauerkraut and wieners with mashed potatoes and corn pones in a long time.”

She turned to look out of the window to see if the children were playing in the back yard. She stopped and smiled, for there in the middle of the table was the old pewter pitcher filled with flowers. They were not arranged, but just cut and stuffed in the pitcher, with some lying on the table, on one of the napkins she had bought last summer for the Lady’s club picnic.

Just then she heard the front door open and close. “Is that you, Janie? How was school honey?” She leaned over and smelled the flowers. Her first inclination had been to remove the flowers and rearrange them in a more artful manner. But now, as she reached for the old pewter pitcher a tear came to her eye. She was happy, very happy now and her tiredness seemed to have disappeared.

“Hi Mommy, see the pretty flowers I picked and arranged for you and daddy?” Janie entered the kitchen from the hallway.

She saw that her daughter's dress was muddy and so were her shoes and hands. “Hi honey. Oh yes, when Momma saw these beautiful flowers, all of her tiredness and worries floated away. Thank you honey, oh thank you.” She bent over and hugged her daughter. “How about wieners and sauerkraut with mashed taters and cone pones?”

“Oh Mommy, I love you. You are such a good mommy,” Janie said. Janie opened the fridge and took out the half of an apple she had left, and with it she ran for the door and back yard.

Janie's mother hummed as she started supper. She loved her flowers, and boy-oh-boy, they had made coming home from a harried day a pleasant affair.

© By Tom (TOMWYO@aol.com)

Monkey Face Flowers

My Mom loved pansies and she always made sure that we had some planted by the front yard. She would allow me to pick a few and she's the one who said,"Don't they look like little monkeys?"

Well, a five year old doesn't need much to stir the imagination and to this day, I see the monkey faces. My favorite ones were brown and yellow because they really did remind me of monkeys.

Mom liked the white ones and my Granma loved the deep purple ones. My Mom told me that violets were like cousins to pansies but they were shy and liked to hide under those big leaves.

How easy it is to implant something in a young mind! Turning flowers into animals was so easy.

I decided on my own that sunflowers were lions. They were so big and tall you know they were roaring.

Daisies were kittens and Black Eyed Susans were puppies. I thank Mom and Granma for letting me see things that no one else but us could see.

© By Swampetta (SWAMPETTA@aol.com)

The Pansy Farmer

His tired old body said quit,
He and his little wife must go on,
He knew he could no longer work,
Days as a carpenter were gone.


He rubbed his thinning hair,
Looked down at the rich black dirt,
"I’ve always been good at growin’ things."
Then he wiped his hands on his shirt.


"I’m going down to the seed store," he called,
Drove off in his old Model-T Ford.
Bought some pansy seeds that very day,
He had enough vegetables to hoard.


The pansies grew and he sold more than a few,
Their little faces and colors a delight,
Who would have thought a pansy farm,
Would let him sleep peaceful at night.


Just before he closed his eyes to dream,
He thought of a table set by sweethearts,
His very own pansies, their favorite flower,
And he, old Sy, played his part.

© By Norma (Twi1ite@sbcglobal.net)