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.
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)