Posts Tagged ‘butter and eggs’

Jack jump up and kiss me plant. -- Wikimedia photo

Jack jump up and kiss me plant. — Wikimedia photo

                If I  had  my life to live over, I would start barefoot earlier in the spring and stay that way later in the fall. I would go to  more dances. I would  ride more merry-go-rounds. I would  pick more daisies..” – Nadine Stair

Too Numerous to List

            At one time in my life, I decided to keep a list of the wildflowers I came across on my hikes and walks, the same as I keep a list of the birds I see for the very first time. It was a decision that I quickly gave up as a hopeless task, right after I learned that a daisy comes in over 20,000 species and each, most likely, has dozens of common names.

So I just started enjoying the flowers, and identifying them by the name I liked best.

Butter and eggs. -- Wikimedia photo

Butter and eggs. — Wikimedia photo

One of my favorites is the one I call butter and eggs, a non-native plant considered a weed that is now common across much of North America. It’s also called toadflax, plus such local colloquial names as brideweed,   butter haycocks, bread and butter, bunny haycocks, bunny mouths, calf’s snout, Continental weed, dead men’s bones, devil’s flax, devil’s flower, dragon bushes, eggs and bacon, gallwort, impudent lawyer, Jacob’s ladder,  monkey flower, ramsted, rabbit flower and wild tobacco, just to name a few. .

I can’t help but wonder where the “impudent lawyer” moniker came from, just as I wonder about the name given a small purple wildflower that I’ve often come across. Among other names, it’s known as the Jack-jump-up-and-kiss-me-flower. It also goes by such names as the Johnny jump up, hearts ease, three faces in a hood, tickle-my-fancy, love-in-idleness and wild pansy.

So now do you understand why I don’t keep a flower list?

Blog pick of the Day. Check it out.

Blog pick of the Day. Check it out.

            Bean Pat: Mr. Grumpy Gets a Bath http://tinyurl.com/goay5lg For fans of Ogden Nash and birders interested in grackles and coots.

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“Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves.” … John Muir

"Rite of Passage" sculpture at Farragut State Park ... Photo by Pat Bean

 He’s called Mack.  He’s the “Rite of Passage” sculpture that sits outside the Museum at the Brig at Farragut State Park, and he represents the 293,381 sailors trained here during World War II.

 I had no idea the park was a former naval base when I accepted an opportunity to volunteer here. I quickly jumped at the offer based on the park’s Idaho Panhandle location. I spent last summer in Texas wilting from too many hot humid summer days and I had no intention of repeating the foolish action.

 I chose well. Today will be my first 90-degree day, and without my native state’s humidity I’m still quite comfortable, although I’ll probably turn on my air conditioner when the sun hits my RV later in the day for a couple of hours. The rest of the time, my campground site is well shaded.

I’m rather fond of Mack. Possibly because my daughter spent 10 years in the Navy, serving in the Gulf War, and possibly because yesterday my son, a career Army man and Blackhawk helicopter pilot, was deployed to Afghanistan. It’s nice to know people care enough about our military sons and daughters to create a work of art memorializing them.

Apple blossoms

Butter and eggs' blossoms

 Meanwhile, sitting here in such a tranquil setting where butter and egg, two-toned yellow blossoms color the landscape beneath the pink flowers of an apple tree and robins raise their babies, it’s hard to imagine the ugliness of a battle field. Sadly I know that most people don’t want to imagine that scene. Perhaps if more people would, an end to war would come sooner.

 I’m a flower child. I want peace. When I was younger I believed I might live to see such a day. I now know I won’t. All I’m left with believing is that perhaps my grandchildren will – and hoping that my son returns safely from Afghanistan.

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