Goodies

Strawflowers are so pretty, some apricot, some peach or pink or fireball colored.  I love them.  Their petals are rustly and papery even when fresh.  Have worn them as earrings or in my hair often, as do the girls, and last week I made a few flower crowns on dried grape vines, along with a couple of hair clips to take to the Farm Store in town.  We did some water coloring three days ago, and those got cut up into little cards that got tied onto the crowns and the clips fastened onto as price tags.  Layla brought a branch in to hang the wreaths from, and we couldn’t figure out what to do with the branch . . .  . looked around, saw some shells, a vase, aha!  A holder was born.  Since I was going, thought might as well take along a few bars of soap that we made in May; they’re now nicely saponified, smell great, and lather really well.  We wrapped them in some handmade paper and put them in a little basket.  Then off we went.  Feeling most excited as this is the first batch of Dreamsong goodies that we’ve carted to market.  If you live in these parts and visit the Farm Store out on Route 60 be sure to look out for them

a daytrip with plants

awaken outside to the asiatic dayflower’s bright blue hue . .. .

eyes drift and see the gladiola blooming a second time (!)

the marshmallow still holds the morning dew

as does the comfrey around the corner . . . .

butterfly weed bends to touch the grass

while the dahlias and zinnia converse

and the roses their perfume disperse.

chicory and queen anne nod their heads

and echinecea has just now some petals shed

the hops are happy, powder filled, yellow

peppers between tulsi, her smell strong yet mellow

butterfly to cleome has things to say

another sipping nectar with anise hyssop does play.

papery rustling buds stand tall

and later, a ginseng surprise reminding us of fall . . . .

journey’s end . . . . a light glowing mystery around the bend.

A Song of Love

A  Song of Love

I see what I used to be.

I see what I longed to see.

At last I know my dream will come true.

At last.

At last I know my dream will come true, but my dream is a flower of love.

Don’t be too sure that your dream will come true as mine did.

My dream was not just a dream.

It was a wish come true, upon a wishing star so bright, at last I see the light of me.

All that matters to me now, is all of me now.