I can never remember the names
of the wildflowers.
Sometimes I carry my wildflower identification book,
find the names of the flowers I am observing,
and think: I must remember that one.
But I don’t.
Except for the humble yarrow.
Curiously observing yarrow once while hiking,
wondering about the name of the plant,
several senior women,
each with hiking poles and a sun hat,
stopped to say hello.
That is yarrow, one woman told me.
My mother would boil it into tea
when I was a little girl
to stop my tummy ache.
Because of that story,
I have remembered the yarrow plant ever since,
pointing it out to my friends whenever I see it.
That’s yarrow, you know, I say excitedly.
But I never impress anyone
with that tidbit of knowledge.
Perhaps if I could identify more types of wildflowers.
Maybe that would be more impressive.
To remember other wildflowers, though,
I’ll need stories associated with them.
Just like with yarrow.
Hiking – senior women – tea – tummy ache – yarrow.
Word association helps with memory.
Tell me how milkweed made a boy sick,
causing him to miss an elementary school exam.
I would remember milkweed then.
Or how a hiker was bitten by a rattlesnake
and the bite was covered with a
mass of crushed-up black-eye Susans.
I would remember black-eye Susans then.
Or how a disfiguring scar on a
beautiful face was
caused by blood root. Oh yes, you better believe
I would remember what blood root looks like then.
Until then, I guess I’ll just continue to try
to amaze my friends with my current,
albeit extremely limited,
knowledge of wildflowers.
Look right there. Yarrow.
And over there too. More yarrow.
Bet you didn’t know you can make tea out of it.
Helps with a tummy ache.