Momie and the Wood sorrel

  This time of year, the tiny purple blooms of the oxalis or wood sorrels brighten every nook and cranny of the Bayou.   At one time, there were a very few of the plants growing here and those were weak, thin plants. Since the plants were pretty,  I babied those until they became healthy, strong plants.  Each year, the plants were covered with blooms which made me smile.  At the time, I had no idea that the plant was edible.  I just liked the looks of it and loved the fact that it was one of the first plants to bloom in the spring and continued to bloom throughout the summer.  It fast became one of my "domesticated" wildflowers and whenever I found it in the gardens, I let it grow.  Others deem it as a weed but, here, weeds can sometimes be welcome.

  This morning while I was out doing some trimming, I was careful to leave the larger patches of wood sorrel.  One thing that I discovered about using the weed-eater, is that it is a mindless job.  As long as you keep the thumb on the trigger and feet clear of the twine, things go relatively well.  Since it does not take a lot of brain power, my mind takes the opportunity to wander a bit.  This morning's brain ambling took me back to Mark's grandmother's place.  This dear lady took me as one of her own and shared a good many things with me.  We had a lot in common. One funny little thing was that we both loved the wood sorrels.  On either side of her door, she had a large concrete urn.  These urns were filled with the oxalis plants and she babied them as I did the wild ones.  The wood sorrel was her pride and joy.  Only Momie (the family's name for her) could get away with having "weeds" in her garden boxes.  No one dared say anything about it as she could and would take them down off their high horses right quick.  In other words, "Don't mess with our wood sorrel!"

  Now every time I see the first blooms of the season, I think of this dear lady and our friendship.  We remained close until her death years ago.  The fact that a memory can be triggered by the sight of a tiny wildflower just means to me that she is still with me and always will be.  Kindred spirits...so to speak.