Carefree Days and Dandelion Crowns

My childhood years were indeed happy, carefree and uncomplicated. I used to ask Mom if we were a lot of trouble when growing up. She always replied, “Oh no. You would get up, eat breakfast, and go outside to play. I would call you for lunch; you would eat and go back outside and play. I would call you for supper; you would come in, eat everything in sight, and then go to bed.” When I was very small, maybe four or five years old, I would watch caterpillars crawling on a tree branch, follow ants to the ant hills, catch lightening bugs in a jar, watch grasshoppers hopping around, and look for four-leaf clovers. An adult sees “weeds” in a hillside of dandelions. A child looks at the same hillside and sees a fanciful playground. Dee and I would sit for hours on the grass and weave dandelion stalks into bracelets, necklaces, and crowns. It was simple to do. First you connect two ends of a stalk by slipping one of its hollow ends into the other, then, with your fingernail you slit a hole in the loop. Next, you slip a second stalk through the slit, connect its ends into a loop and continue until the chain is long enough for a bracelet or necklace. We also made beautiful dolls out of hollyhocks and toothpicks. The buds became their heads and the fluted blossoms were turned upside down for their bodies and skirts. We took daisies and played, “He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not,” for an imagined boyfriend, picking off one petal at a time until they were gone to see where you would end up. I have always felt very connected to Dee, almost as though she were my twin. As kids we were inseparable. Today, though we’re half a country apart, we often buy the same blouse, purse, or craft item unbeknown to each other. It tickles me and makes me still feel close to Dee whenever this happens. Dee did my hair perfectly for thirty-five years. Since moving to Florida, I have yet to find a hairdresser who knows my color, cut, and hair style like Dee did.