Seeds
"Seeds," Stonecoast Review, Issue No. 15 (Summer 2021): 118-24.
But the flowers I remember most were Sweet Williams. In my memory, as vivid as today’s sun even though it happened nearly four decades ago, Granddaddy cut them near the ground and handed me the bunch. Following his careful instruction, I stuffed the brown stems into a paper bag and shook. Just weeks before, the flowers spoke in reds and purples and whites. Now desiccated, they released their tiny black seeds with a portentous rattling as they fell into the tan bag that normally would have held my sack lunch. Cut / shake, cut / shake, cut / shake. We repeated this rhythm until the rows were gone and we were ready for spring planting. It is the only time I have collected seeds, but Granddaddy sowed and gathered them throughout his life.
Paid newsletter subscribers can listen to an audio version of this essay:
“Seeds”
Audio version of a personal essay
Taking Bearings
Comments ()