Pansy Time

The fall season means a lot of different things to different people.Pumpkins are everywhere. Hay rides, leaves changing color, foot ball games, bon fires, and even deer hunting. For me, fall means time to plant the pansies. The beautiful annuals that can't stand the Arkansas heat. They do well in the winter, and I love to see them blooming in the snow.  I usually don't plant annuals-after all, they're only good for one season. That all changed when my mom told me that they were my great-grandma's favorite flower. I started planting them as a way to remember her. It wasn't long before I started taking some to my mom to plant too.  Little by little stories would come out, and it gave me a glimpse of the short,                                                                                       German woman that could never

pronounce my name correctly. To her, I was Kaddie. I loved hearing those stories and learning about the past. Now, I realize that Mom looked forward to telling me those stories as much as I loved hearing them. It gave her a chance to talk about someone she loved and missed. I know Grandma ironed sheets and boxer shorts (sorry hubs, I didn't inherit that gene) and that she loved pizza and beer (that gene  I got). She also loved to listen to music as she cleaned house, going to movies, and reading stories. My name wasn't the only English word she had problems saying. Pistachio always came out sounding like piss-cry-tony. I remember that her accent was very heavy-and by the time I arrived she had been in the states a long, long time. She smelled of roses and watched Lawrence Welk. I was forced to watch it so many times, I remember words to the parting song. "Good night, sleep tight, and pleasant dreams to you. Here's a wish and a prayer that your dreams come true...."