The human female wanted flowers for her birthday or for Valentine’s day, and of course Sigyn deserves flowers any day of the year, but the human male and I are too
cheap ecologically minded to buy into the wholesale slaughter of hothouse blossoms and over-hyped marketing that is the commercial floral trade, so we have brought our women out to look at real, live flowers on a sunny early spring day. Fisi has come along as well. I know, I know–I am a pushover, but YOU try telling something half-crazed and toothy that it isn’t welcome in the car.
Ahhh. I will grudgingly admit that it is a very fine day. The sun is shining, the breeze is most temperate, and various avian reptiles are holding forth tunefully. The bright red ones merely repeat, “birdie, birdie, birdie,” but the gray and white ones have quite the repertoire of warbles, tweets, and chirps. The human female calls those “mockingbirds.” What a fine creature! One would make a most suitable companion for a God of Mischief. I shall make it a point to capture and tame one and teach it to sing, “Thor is a big doof.”
The human female and Sigyn have made a beeline for a patch of green that, at first glance, appears to have no flowers at all. Upon closer inspection, however, it is the dainty plant the human female calls chickweed. Sigyn is greeting it like an old friend.
As, I suppose, she should, having made its acquaintance (with an equal amount of squealing) last year about this time.
But it is not little, weedy European plants we have come out to see. No, we are after native wildflowers. The human female seems to have some species particularly in mind and is bent over, quartering the lawn like Volstagg on the scent of foodstuffs at a fair.
We have apparently located our goal. Behold–spring beauties!
Yes, Sigyn, I do see the stripes. They are quite decorative.
No, Fisi! BAD hyena! Do NOT eat the stripey flowers!
Or eat them if you absolutely must, but if you are sick in the car on the way home, I will make an ugly throw rug out of your moth-eaten spotty hide.