Wednesday, October 25, 2017

I Hate These Flowers


I hate these Celosia, Cockscomb flowers, really hate them.  Swore I would never grow them and yet they have multiplied all over my flowerbed.  Every time I look at them I remember my brother, Jim as an infant with a waist-high cast covering his broken leg and my grandmother lying in her casket.  Last night the temperature dropped to 36 degrees and I am celebrating their soon demise in this month's Wildflower Wednesday linkup.  Although I am unsure if they are considered to be a "wildflower" because I think they are "weeds."



Not to be judgemental, there are people who like to grow them for pleasure.  I am not one of those types.  If you love them, (what a horrible thought) and decide to water and fertilize them, some varieties can grow large. Some people might even say they are lovely.  

From a neighbor's garden.

I promised myself I would never grow them and then years ago I was given a packet of seeds by an unsuspecting friend.  It was a gift, I had to plant them, not to would be rude.  So I threw them out in the garden one frozen, snowy day feeling sure that was the end. Wrong. They sprouted in the early Spring, spread all over the garden and have returned every year despite not being watered or fertilized, ever.


When I was eight years old, my father's mother, "Granny" suddenly died.  Her life's passion was to feed anyone who might be hungry.  Her husband, Papa had a life's passion also.  He liked to attend funerals.  All funerals. Anyone's funeral.  Stranger's funerals. Didn't matter if he knew you or not, if there was a funeral announced in the newspaper, he was there.  Even as a young child I thought it was odd; so one day I asked him why he liked to attend funerals?  He replied he wanted to make the crowd look bigger.  


A few weeks before Granny died, my infant brother Jim, accidentally fell out of a swing and broke his leg.  Due to the type of break at his young age, he was put in a cast up to his waist.  On the day of the funeral, everyone for miles around was at the funeral home.  Granny had fed everyone at some time in their life and Papa had attended a funeral of someone in everyone's family.  It was a big crowd.  We had no idea who all of the people were but the place was standing room only.


My mother and I arrived early to receive visitors while my father stayed home to attend to Jim.  When Dad arrived, he carried my little baby brother who was grasping a smashed and withered Cockscomb bloom from the flowerbed beside our back door.  The room became hushed and all eyes watched as Dad (Granny's dearest son) approached the casket. Without being prompted, Jim carefully bent over and gently laid the smashed bloom beside Granny.

EVERYBODY GASPED AND BEGAN SOBBING! The whole room fell apart.  Strangers, friends, family, everyone was crying. It was heartbreaking. This pitiful, tiny boy in a half-body cast was giving his Granny a flower he had picked for her one last time. No one could stop blubbering.  They buried the flower with her.

I still cry even to this day when I remember it and I remember it whenever I look at Cockscomb blooms.  I blame my brother for this major childhood trauma and for causing all my dysfunctional problems.  It is all his fault.  I will never forgive him even though he doesn't remember anything.


As I sat in my flowers today holding my camera, taking pictures and mournfully reminiscing, Scooter walked over beside me, backed up to my flowerbed full of Celosias and POOPED!  

I think he read my mind, sensed my feelings, and understood how I felt.

12 comments:

  1. Maybe you should get a big container of Round-Up and let that flowerbed have it--or maybe some Casseron and treat the entire bed with it so NOTHING will grow. Of course, that would be pretty drastic. They look pretty hardy--Crossbow? Flame-thrower? 5 feet of straw/mulch? Planting a new invasive plant over the top? (cause a bed of poison ivy or such would be such an improvement) Sadly, your entire property would probably have to be laid to waste by chemicals to get rid of them.......and none of these ideas is very viable!!! So sorry you have to look at a flower that brings you pain. Sounds like Scooter is on your side, though, making you feel better:) Since your brother is hale and hearty now, maybe he could dig them all out.....for you....since it's his fault.....Hmmmmm---Have a great time at your garden club meeting!

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    1. I like the idea of making Jim dig them out, since it is all his fault. If I spent the time weeding in the Spring, as I should, I could keep them under control, but that would be too much work.

      I hope Bill never reads your comment because he will rush out and buy "me" a flame-thrower.

      I am looking forward to my Garden Club tomorrow. All that is left to do is to pick some flowers (not Celosia) and make arrangements as decorations, and put the vacuum away, and rewax the floor to cover Scooter's tracks. He does not understand "NO! Wet floor!"

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  2. I do understand your strong aversion to this unwanted plant.
    This celosia belongs to the same plant family as amaranth, these
    healthy grains that look a bit like millets.
    Some sorts of celosia are sold as indoor plants in Germany. I do not like them at all.
    Could you not cut those plants before they make seeds and burn them?
    Christel

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    1. I like your idea and every Spring I plan on doing it, then a million other tasks demand my attention. They have already dropped seeds everywhere. Hopefully next year will be the year I can finally conquer them.

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  3. Each bloom does produce hundreds of seeds. I think you have good reason to dislike them.

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    1. I think each bloom produces millions, no billions, no it is at least TRILLIONS of seeds.

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  4. I hope you returned the favour and gave your friend a packet of seeds for an equally invasive plant :)

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    1. No I didn't; but maybe I should. This will require some planning.
      Kudzu perhaps? Poison ivy?

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  5. After reading your description, I thought to myself, "Those flowers are her Granny telling her she is with her on the farm in spirit." I understand how a bad memory can ruin one's appreciation for something. However, if you can't get rid of the very persistent flowers, perhaps thinking about them as reminder from your Granny that she loves you and is supporting you from above will help you at least tolerate them.

    On a side note, I do love that Scooter offers his emotional support regarding the flowers in the best way he can. ��

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    1. What a sweet comment. Thank you for seeing the positive in a negative situation, which is not my strength. I will look at them and smile as I yank them up.

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  6. I hate those large ones with a vengeance. I don't know in whose book they are considered esthetic enough to grow and sell fir bouquets. They remind me of raw brains, and I don't even have any painful childhood associations with them. Wishing you the best in exterminating them. And don't get me going on hostas, that other ugly useless green thing. What a waste of gardening effort.
    Cheers from Melbourne, Australia

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    1. I am glad I am not the only one who hates them even if it is someone on the other side of the world! I now longer feel alone.

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