Little Yellow Suns

Mother’s garden was always fun to play in. Small in size, she had a way with design that made you feel like you were in the flower forests of Alice in Wonderland. Mother found her peace in the 20’x10’ frame she kept her flowers in, and I would spend hours going on grand adventures while laying on the stone pathways and talking with the flowers. This morning was like many others, and I was scratching the top of the soil between a large sage plant and a rosemary bush. They were just large enough that there was a space open in the soil in between, and I liked to see what kind of life I could find underneath them. Some days it was simply gnats and spiders, others days I would hit the jackpot and find a worm or two.

This part of the garden was a bright strip, with the blooming blue and purple of the large herb bushes each at the end of a six foot bed, they had grown together in the middle and the smell, oh the smell was the sweetest thing to awaken a young heart. Situated in the center of the front of the bed was a two-year-old thyme plant, spreading to cover about a square foot, across and up, in the bed. Covering most of the rest of this bed was a menagerie of orange, yellow and red flowers, all shorter than the herb plants. Some were light petaled with the wispy beauty of cultivated flowers, while others were smaller petaled and reminded me of the daisy’s in the front, only colorful. I didn’t know much about these flowers, other than we would eat them, they were sweet and floral tasting most of the time. But every now and then one would leave a bitter taste in my mouth. I remember thinking momma called them ‘nastishams’, which always made me giggle.

Today was a special kind of day, though I didn’t know it at my young age, and I had wandered into the garden just after breakfast. I had heard momma mention it was Mid-Summer, and that we would be having company for dinner. All I knew was that it was a beautiful summer morning, and that it had showered the evening before, which meant the garden promised to smell amazing! So I had made my way out to scratch the surface of the soil to see what treasures I could find. After about 10 minutes of hunting, I was satisfied there was nothing to be found in the soft soil today. I laid back onto the path and when I did my head came to the end of the bed I had been playing in. I turned towards the sun, which was still close enough to the horizon of the tops of the trees, making it close to 9:00. I raised my hand to the glare, and that’s when I noticed one of the yellow flowers had stretched over the border of the bed. This flower had a big ball of yellow petals in the middle, with the same colored daisy-like slender petals surrounding the outside.

“Like sun rays!” I thought. Just then, the sun fell into my sight directly above the flower, I was entranced with how the two looked so similar. I smiled, and began talking with the little yellow sun…..

Many years later and the memories of my mother’s garden safely tucked away, I found myself navigating the perils of adolescence. I had never fit in with my peers as a whole, something about the energy exchanges just didn’t attract me to many people. I did well in my studies, practiced all the skills my family got me involved in, and spent my time being what others wished me to be. I had a creative side that would put me in front of others performing, singing and making music, and this is where I thrived. As the impending destination of adult-hood came closer, the moments of artistic freedom grew less and less. Momma wanted to see me using my time for better purposes, to make a living for myself and a plan for my future. And in the society of the day, art and music were not going to bring that. I had a hard time focusing my mind on something else to move forward with, until I found a book on the magic of different plants. I skimmed though the book, stopping every so often when I saw a plant I knew to read the description. The book included things like what element and planet the plant belonged to, as well as cultural meanings and energetic uses of each plant. I had never imagined the flowers in this way, as I had basically studied astronomy and life science as given in school and had not considered energetic principles when looking at the world around me.

I flipped through the book a bit until I spied a beautiful, familiar, yellow flower. My heart smiled as I saw it and said, “Well hello there, little yellow sun.” The page had displayed many of the flowers I had seen when I was young in mother's garden, and the book told me that their name was marigold. The description carried stories like how their name came from when patrons would offer the flower to the Mother Mary in lieu of having gold to give, being called ‘Mary’s gold”.

The coolest association I read about that day was ot the Aztecs using the flower in remembrance ceremonies and is still used today during the yearly Dia de los Muertos celebrations in Mexico. It is said that the scent of the flower is so sweet it can entice spirits to come back into the world of the living, allowing the connection that is often included in these kinds of celebrations. I pondered this, and with the ruling planet of the flower being named as the Sun, my mind began to expand into concepts of energetic association. When I look back, I remember reconnecting with the girl who talked to flowers, and I could not recall if they had ever answered me at that moment. What came in the years that followed are tough to explain in worlds…….

The passing years found me fitting in as well as I could within society, working and mothering. Lovers came and lovers left, the sweet kiss of life and experience piling up an enormous amount of responsibility upon my shoulders. I played the part well. And all the while, I slowly studied more and more about energies, philosophies and the net that holds it all together. I found ways to identify with the world around me and came to feel wholly that humans have simply chosen to exempt themselves from nature. Up until I was almost 30, I found these in legendary stories. The religion, myth and science of the world; I connected with energy through philosophy.

Just before the end of my third decade, I experienced a drastic change in life as well as met a magnificent and supportive lover. Together, we stepped forth and took on the road ahead. During this time, I found yet another way to connect with energy, as we grew food and medicine and shared our craft openly with others. The act of gardening, stewarding the life support we are given from the planet, itself was empowering. And I again came in close contact with my little yellow suns. The marigold is amazing to have in the garden, as her roots deter nematodes and her flowers are nutritious. Her energy stands bright as the flowers are prolific, from the sun shaped yellows I had set to mind in childhood, to the carnation-like oranges, and the daisy-like reds, oranges and yellows. It can give the feel of autumn all summer long. With the partnership and support of my lover as aid, I engulfed myself into the healing attributes of the energy of plants. Using, for a short while, practices that resonated with me as being closer to my nature than the rush of the life I had lived. I learned both the marigold’s and the Sun’s importance to creating and sustaining life.

As life sometimes does, it came to call and the desire for material won out in our lives. I returned to the societal workforce armed with my new skills and looking to support the lifestyle we had created for our family. Things never seemed quite right again, the connection began to falter. Then, as happens with experience, a day came when the demons of my lover and the frailness of his physical body could not hold at peace any longer. In the early morning hours of a long summer’s day, a violent seizure entrapped him, and after a grueling few minutes of support and prayer, I was left to grieve the man I held as my heart…..

Nearly four years have passed since the loss of my dear love. As we walk into the cold, short days of winter, I find my heart heavy and empty. Feeling no motivation for the growth that once entranced my soul. The performer, the steward, the Bard; all put to rest by the sudden realization of logic, that since the best is temporary, there must not be a point. A drastic change from the woman I have described before, don’t you think? The garden outside is unkempt, still edible as most of the wild weeds are sacred herbs in disguise. Thistle, snakeweed, wild lettuce, and even remnants of herbs; a gangly sage that may or may not make it through the season, morning glories that have turned graveyard vine, and there are even a bunch of marigolds growing. It did make me smile that the volunteers came to visit this year.

It is close to Samhain, the cold begins now, though the harshest of winter is still months ahead. Join me now for a remembrance, will you? As we give thanks for the lives we’ve lived before and give love to our ancestors? It is not as ritualistic as I once showed, but let’s cut the flower heads and put them in a bowl for the table centerpiece. I will make us a feast, venison and beans left over from harvests of years past. We will set a place or two extra for our ancestors, those spirits who wish to join us. A candle amidst the colors of the marigold flowers and a fire to warm outside. Thank you for joining me at this time…..

Winter has set in, so far it has been a very good year with a blanket of snow since Thanksgiving. I can feel the dark creeping in, and at the same time, am excited about the lengthening days, though not quite yet noticeable. After we cut the marigold flowers in October, I left the plants to go with nature, expecting the cold to freeze them down and the blanket of snow to begin the decay to turn compost for the spring. And here, on New Year’s Eve, there still grows a single plant. It’s deep green compounded leaves contrast greatly with the white of snow surrounding it. It’s on it’s second flower since we cut the rest. And peculiar, as it is deep red with no orange or yellow outline. I can not remember ever having the deep red marigolds this year or last. It is certain there is energy communication afoot…..

Yesterday, as we crossed the midpoint of solstice to equinox, I sat with the growing flower. The ground to about 9 inches from the stalk has stayed free from ice or snow, an amazing occurrence as this winter progresses. The snow strands at almost two feet in other parts of the garden, and remarkably, a third flower has bloomed and stands tall and open. Deep red in color, and I feel it almost mocking me. I had an idea to cut it off, and had turned to retrieve the garden snips, when a faint whisper that may not have been a sound stopped me mid-turn. I looked at the single flower and decided instead to connect with it. I stared at it’s brilliance, the clear healthy color amidst the covered slumber of the rest of the earth. As I looked, the sweet smell of the single flower hit my nose. I closed my eyes for a moment to enjoy the odor, and when I opened them again, it seemed the plant did a little dance for me. The leaves at the bottom vibrated while the flower swung forward, leaning towards me, In this moment I asked, “Hello little yellow sun, a miracle of winter. What is your purpose here?” I listened and reached out with every sense I could muster. The smell permeated the air for a couple of minutes then became mixed with the smell of water dripping from higher branches and soaking into the ground. A vision of the Sun, red with spreading rays, held my mind’s eye for the same time as the smell lingered, then faded and I saw only the bright red flower again. For a moment, a strong feeling of grief and misery washed over me, though it was gone almost as quick as it came on. Grateful for the energy, I went about my day, still puzzled as to why I had this magical flower in my garden.

Then last night as I lay in bed, I could not stop thinking of the smell and visual I shared with the marigold in the afternoon. A bright kaleidoscope of different hues of red, yellow and orange played behind my eyelids, emanating from a Sun center. It was harder to fall asleep with this, my eyes darting back and forth to catch all the beauty of each geometric design. And when sleep came, it came soft and deep, lifting me far into the wonders of dreamscape.

Last night, my lover came to me….

He embraced me as if there had not been these years since I had last felt his touch. And as I burst into tears, holding him tightly, I was taken aback when he simply giggled. “Why do you cry?” He asked while looking deeply into my eyes.

“Because of just that,” I answered. “I never thought I would see those eyes again, to wrap my arms around you and feel you embrace me.” I wept into his chest, “The day I lost you I have not been able to recover. And the world has been dark without your love.”

He wrapped his arms gently around me and pulled me in, softly kissing the top of my head. “My dear, I have gone nowhere. For energy does not cease to exist nor can we ever experience loss. I have attempted for years to embrace you again, inhabiting the hearts of men, women and animals you have allowed yourself to connect with. Each time, you retreat from allowing me to continue to love you. The comparison with this corporeal form haunts you, and you have locked yourself away from me in grief. It is only finally through the scent of a simple flower that I have enticed you close enough. Do you see this, my dear? For I am always beside you.”

I raised my head from his chest and looked at his face. The concerned eyes looking deep into my soul with a force of love so great it radiated all through my form. The smile that slighted his face filled me with confidence, for what yet I do not recognize. He gently wiped away one escaping tear.

“Do not ignore it when you feel this again’” he went on. “When you feel your heart open do not let the fear slam your gates down and fill the moat. In every moment of loving bliss you feel, know that is me.”

I slowly leaned in to kiss him, and awoke before my lips met his……

I have often contemplated that dream, in these past weeks. As yet another red marigold stands tall. The Equinox has arrived and as the snow has melted beautiful shades of green come reaching towards the sun. There is a patch of marigold’s coming up around the winter flower and I have begun to create a bed to support their spread. As I sit awaiting the sunrise today, the sweet smell of the marigold catches my attention and I see she is leaning in toward me again. With the faith of a child, I sit down next to her.

“Hello Lover.” I state as I bend to eye level with the flower.

As I bend and look at the marigold, the sun crests the horizon. The top of the flower straightly aligned with the top arc of the Sun as it rises above the distant hills. A vision of a red flower on the bottom half, while the top of the flower shines a bright halo of light as the Angels sing blessings from above. And as the breach of the Sun’s crest over the horizon warms my face, the single red marigold dripps with the morning dew. The arrival of spring opens my heart with promises of new growth and true companions. With the energies of the rare flower persistent with the will of my lover; I know this season will show what I had been missing in the dark.