On My Wisteria Wishes:

My wisteria is a thing of beauty. A water fall of purple cascading down to the ground. And the heady aroma that fills the yard so strong in the sun it can almost choke off your breath. I love my wisteria maybe because it lasts only for two weeks a year. I never quite get enough.

The flowers I like best are spring flowers. Purple Iris, Violet, Wisteria and Lilac. Not that I don’t like other flowers, because I do. I like clematis and honeysuckle, dragon flower, coneflower, spirea and mock orange. All of which I have in my yard along with others. The daylilies and hustas, wild rose, daffodils in abundance, the flowers on the horthorne tree. Azalea and rhododendron bushes, evening primrose, and more all grace my yard. But I like wisteria the best of all.

I have them planted at the corners of the house. Arbors hold them up. The one is the arbor over the walk way that you go under to get to the house. The other is out side of my bedroom door. It covers a little sitting porch I have there. I have two white wicker chairs in there. I open up the bedroom door and listen to my music as I sit in the shade making lace or knitting.

The wisteria hangs down and bumble bees slowly buzz from flower head to flower head sipping nectar and collecting pollen. A breeze rustles my skirts and cools my face. Fresh homemade lemonade sits in a glass and pitcher with covers on them to keep the bees from feasting there too. It could be a scene from days gone by with the exception of the music. (Delerium, Karma) I take the day to dream under the wisteria.

I dream of a world without hate and malice. Where children frolic unmolested and animals cause no harm to garden or person. Where people find pleasure in any task they take up to do and music is always on the air. And there are flowers like my wisteria enough to fill the warmer days of the year in abundance. Enough for everyone to enjoy.

I dream of a world that doesn’t hold prejudice and misunderstandings. Where bullies and the criminally insane can be helped to turn their lives around. A place without fear. A place of love and wisteria.