When I was eight years old, we moved from a starter home in town to my Dad’s dream home, of course a fixer-upper, on 25 acres of hilly land.
On one of my first forays I made Mom a bouquet of all the beautiful flowers I saw on my way down to the creek. Upon presentation, she said simply “they’re weeds!” and tossed them in the garbage. But they’re so pretty!
Now at my advanced age I’m becoming a connoisseur of pretty weeds, mixing them in with bearded irises from the garden. I pick Queen Anne’s lace, Indian paintbrush, Texas bluebonnets, red clover and my latest, lupine. I’ve had so much fun designing arrangements around weeds and fresh rye grass.
It’s all about beauty being in the eye of the beholder. There’s one yellow flower out in the cow pastures that I’ve been advised not to pick because it smells bad. OK, then, otherwise the sky’s the limit!
Winter is too long to not be dazzled by spring color, no matter the source. Enjoy! Dee
Cooking with Dee 