These brilliant blooms found their way out of the ploughed and planted acres to spring forth on virgin soil. On the vacant lot beside my new little prairie house myriad blossoms delighted us in the early morning when we first arrived in Flaxton.
This year when I unpacked the cupboards I had carefully filled with the useful debris of our raccoon inhabited house last September, I found the perfect vase for some of those beauties. Off I hiked, clippers in hand, into the thistle protected bevy of yellow. After several stinging nettle bites, I exited with a bouquet to brighten the lounge room.
Like all wild things, being encapsulated in a foreign environment minus the fertile soil of North Dakota wrapped around roots, the blossoms faded, petals littered the counter top upon which the lovely vase sat. Yellow pollen scattered over the red doily, a reminder that wild things ought to be left in the wild.
One wonders if the same will happen to the Aussie and me. Are we wild things raised in an environment far different from the prairie?
Will our wit and energy survive in the cold, dark winter days on the northern prairie?
Yesterday was our first cold, rainy day this year. During a well- deserved day off, we travelled to Estevan in Canada for Vietnamese. Coincidently, in the midst of our curry, we noticed a Flaxton local arrive for his rainy day break as well. This kindly and welcoming native raises cattle and so cannot flee the cold, dark months on the prairie as do so many of his neighbours.
His warning to us about what we could expect during the first three months of winter along the Canadian border was that only eight hours of daylight darkened his mood and created irritability. He cheerfully forewarned that there were environmental ordeals with which we would have to deal.
Hopefully we will not fade and litter the counter-tops with vile moods and dark foreboding.