the golden yellow flower was new that morning,   he noticed it as he stood on the deck, drinking black coffee.   thinking of posting some musings on the flower?

the golden yellow squash blossom   hubbard squash, like his mother used to grow in her garden.

where can we go from here?

Let’s try this again.

The golden flower has appeared overnight.  I hadn’t noticed when I walked with the dog last night, but this morning, ad Finn and I surveyed our Kingdom from the deck, there it was.  Or rather, there they were, as there was more than one.

I looked at it and thought about some profound post that I might write on Facebook.  Coffee cup in hand, I was turning away from the view because my feet were cold.   My feet are always cold these days and I wonder if I have poor circulation or some other condition.  What makes one’s feet cold?

Anyway, I was turning away. coffee cup in hand, when I saw the blossoms over in the little squash patch.   My mother plated hubbard squash each year.  Probably from seed, as the growing season back home is quite a bit longer than here on the east coast.   Hubbard squash.  Our chickens were also called Hubbards.   I wonder why she picked them?  Why Hubbard?

I am sentimental over such things.  Things that keep the good memories afloat.   Afloat, but maybe not fully above the surface.   No, these memories are more like a toy that has been dropped in the water at the beach.  The water is shallow and warm and there is nothing dark or threatening or too deep.  Just warm water and warm sand and warm days and warm memories.  Memories that like the dropped toy, are a little submerged but are there and easily found and looked at.  They can be picked up and carried and enjoyed and put away to be enjoyed again.   It is good for now that they are washed with the comings and goings of waves.  The flow of the salinity.

 

nb- Hubbards is the name of a town in Nova Scotia, on the ocean.