Just a couple minutes ago tonight I caught a young woman (25-30 yr. old) picking daffodils from my front lawn.
Little did she know I’d christened those daffodil bulbs with all the bad luck in my life before bedding them into Mother Earth. Any one who picks those flowers off my lawn is taking home more than a pretty yellow flower.
Normally I’d just smile seeing a fool stumbling into my spell working, them thinking it was they who lucked out and me the victim, but on the spur of the moment decided I couldn’t pass up an additional opportunity.
Picture me flicking on the front porch light just as she straightened up with a hot daffodil in her hand and yelling out, “I saw you pick that daffodil. Stealing flowers on Easter! Are you going to wear that stolen flower to church tomorrow morning?”
I had so much fun I followed her down the street shouting accusations of thievery.
She just kept on walking as if nothing was going on.
Either she was deaf or she was totally embarrassed.
I’m hoping it was the later.
Sometimes its fun to be the crazy old grey haired lady I am.
My goodness! You sound like you want those bad vibes to infect someone else!!!
Thank goodness, that won’t happen! The vibrant energies of the earth and sun dissipate negative forces very quickly. Your bad luck vanished into nothing.
That young lady took home a bit of good in that flower, and you should be glad she found your flowers to brighten her life. She might have been suffering some bad luck herself. Those flowers might have been the only thing between her and despair that day.
I would feel bad if someone picked my flowers, because it is so seldom I get anything to grow. I would ask them to please not pick them. It is definitely wrong to pick people’s flowers.
Flowers cannot contain badness. I’m sorry to tell you this. They are wholly good and wholly beautiful. I agree with Lamby–your bad luck cannot go into a flower. A flower makes up for our bad luck!
I too am sometimes enjoying not really caring what someone thinks as I get older. Not that long ago a young fellow on a bike dropped some trash in the street in front of our house. I happened to be on the porch and I hollered to him politely “Please don’t throw your trash in the street.”. I can’t believe I did it, but people throw beer bottles out of cars and stuff and it seems so wrong. Anyway, he turned around and picked it up. I was sort of embarrassed, but I just hollered “Thank you.”
Funny you should post this because just this morning I had my husband move a pot containing a plant that looks like this (Sauromatum aka “Voudou Lily”) out to our backyard.
When the flower blossoms it smells like rotten raw hamburger.
The stench attracts flies who help it cross pollinate.
After it flowers the plant dies back down a very nice looking sort of a palm treeish looking plant sprouts up.
I haven’t discovered a medicinal use for it yet. Most of my other plantings I use for either food or medicine.
Yes, I’ve had those plantings poached too. I’ve often wondered if the people stealing the poisonous plants know what they’re really picking.
Daffodils are the only plant I use to bury my bad luck with.
I’ve found that daffodils work well for processing and redistibuting bad luck.
Deer, squirrels, and around here rats never dig them up.
In my experience only self-absorbed humans who want to selfishly rob others the simple pleasure of seeing something of beauty will do that.
How about catnip? It grows wild around here, and I pick bits of it for my mouser when the season’s right. She comes to the door yelling at me and dancing around, sniffing at my hands.
WHEN I AM AN OLD WOMAN I SHALL WEAR PURPLE
With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick the flowers in other people’s gardens
And learn to spit
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes
But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.
Taken from the book
When I Am An Old Woman I Shall Wear Purple
Editd by Sandra Martz
Papier Mache Press–Watsonville, California 1987
Tradition has it that if catnip that self plants (grows wild) cats will leave alone unless itsd harvested FOR them. (They have us trained don’t they.)
Planted intentionally and good luck! Cat’s will lie on it and nibble it down to the ground.
I’ve planted some catnip in my yard (its scent is a favorite of some wasps that are deadly enemies of mosquitoes so it works well to scare mosquitoes away) but, since I planted it myself, I put a huge bottomless bird cage over it.
The neighborhood cats can only nibble on the bits of it that poke through the bars.
We have an agreement, those cats and I.
In payment for the treat the cats keep my yard free of mice and rats.
A friend tried to get me to go to one of the Red Hat meetings. I halfway thought about it, then she said, “When I go, I have to wear pink and lilac, because I’m not 50 yet. Members have to be over 50 and wear a red hat and something purple to every meeting, and if you don’t have a red hat they will loan you one.”
I thought that was a lot of rules for a group that originated based on a poem that celebrates nonconformity, so I made appropriate noises and never did go to a meeting. Later I stopped in a store that sold Red Hat accessories, and overheard the owner and a friend talking about a recent meeting and what “mother” said (evidently the president of each chapter is called mother) and just the snooty way they were talking made me so glad I never got involved with them.
I dislike having to wear a uniform, especially just because someone says I should.
A couple of my friends are in a chapter that is totally lesbian identified.
The RHS chapter I’ve partied with is totally Pagan identified. None of the other ladies in this chapter is musician (that I know of) but they’re a great bunch of wacky old crones just the same.
