We were princesses.
My grandmother was quite anti-social. She stayed within the bounds of the female clan of which she was undisputed queen. My poor mother–always trying to get her mother to leave the Morrowfield and enjoy life. It was difficult. I never thought about that. I liked my grandmother to be where she was. The only thing she did outside the family was play poker once a week with some friends. But that’s all she did; these “friends” were not really friends in the way we see it. They were just people who liked to play poker.
One summer–can’t remember exactly, probably around 1959–my mother made arrangements to take us on a “farm” vacation. There was a place in Ohio where a couple who operated a real farm opened their home to people like us, from the city. Somehow she got my grandmother to come with us. My father stayed at home and went to work every day; most probably he was relieved that he wouldn’t have to put with this farm environment. A nature lover he was not.
My sister and I flung ourselves into the pleasures of farm life. We explored the barn, the hayloft, we rode horses, went on a hayride, swam in the pond. This was the first time I saw a floating lily and I went into raptures over it. Still it remains my favorite flower.
My grandmother quickly found a place where she could fit in there; she chose a chair near the house that was her chair. One of the farm cats loved her and always sat on my grandmother’s lap if she was sitting there. This fact, that one of the cats was entranced by my grandmother, made her, in my eyes, even more regal and full of strength.
There were fields of daisies there, acres of them. My grandmother told my sister and I to go and get an armload of them and bring them back. Then she showed us how to make daisy chains, after which she put one on each of our heads, making us princesses.
lgmwriting 