In Bloom

When I was in the fourth and fifth grades, my family lived in Peru, Indiana.  We lived at the end of a cul-de-sac in a house with a very large yard.  At least that is my 10 year old girl view of the yard.  I remember cutting the grass with a push mower and, to me, that yard was huge.  One time when my grandparents were visiting, I was cutting the grass, no doubt looking very pitiful.   My granddad felt sorry for me and took over the job.  I'll never forget his kindness because I felt very loved when he took the handle of that lawnmower.

In that Indiana yard was a crabapple tree.  And a cherry tree.  

One year I helped pick the cherries and pit them.  I became obsessed with getting all of those cherries pitted and worked non-stop to do it.  My fingers turned into shriveled-up little stubs.  That's the way I was as a child.  Now, I have learned to take breaks.  Long breaks and rests.

I don't remember what Mom did with all the cherries, but I do remember what she did with the crabapples.  She made jelly.  Even as a young girl that jelly was pretty to me.  I always thought I would have my own crabapple tree and make jelly, but 40 years later, I still haven't done it.  

My parents live in Oklahoma now, and they still have a crabapple tree.  Last week it was in full bloom.    Even if you never made jelly, the beauty of the blooms make the tree worth having.

At about the time that I obsessed about things like cherry pits I toyed with the idea of joining the circus and being a triple trapeze performer.  I was an odd little child.