Late this afternoon, my spouse and I took our exercise walk through the West Side of Binghamton, NY. Taking a different route than usual, we were treated to several front and side yard displays of huge hibiscus flowers. Magenta ones, white ones.
They brought back memories, memories of a remarkable woman who left this earth eight years ago today.
She loved hibiscus. She would have been overjoyed to know I was enjoying hisbiscus on the anniversary of her death.
My friend grew up in a rural area outside of Tulsa, OK. She was educated in a one room schoolhouse, taught by the schoolteacher-her mother. Her brother and sister accompanied her to school. She went to college, married a man who became a college professor, was a stay at home Mom, later went back to college and got her masters degree, taught elementary school briefly, and ended up in a full time job in Iowa that she still held when she died suddenly at age 77. She had no plans to retire.
The day before she died she visited a farmers market, saw an orchid plant she liked and made plans with the vendor to come back on the next market day and buy it.
She also loved her morel mushrooms.
Every year, she would hunt morel mushrooms. She never told anyone where. She had her own "secret spot". She didn't find them every year. But one year, when my husband and I were visiting her at her home in Iowa, she found some. She cooked them for us, rolling them in batter and frying them. They were so good.
We've only had morels one other time. That time, it was a military buddy of my spouse's, whose parents lived in rural Missouri. They were cooked the same way.
Morels aren't wildflowers, but they are wild. Although, I found a website which explains how you can grow them. (as always, read at your own risk. Especially with mushrooms.)
I'm glad I'm able to share these happy memories with you. Happy Wildflower hunting!