...Origins of Sara-Wildflower....

So my non-blog-name is Sara.

When I was a little girl (and now...) I LOVED flowers. While they're referred to as weeds, dandelions, clover, "purples", and goldenrod were daily props when I played out-doors in Ohio. My huge backyard served as host to them, as well as some idle heather flowers and buttercups. My favorite flowers would adorn my head in a wreathy crown, and others would make their way into a stew brewed up by myself and and friends when we were playing "cooking show".

Once while driving with my grandparents, I had grown tired of playing with my car toys (pocket connect four with my then 3 year old brother wasn't working- he kept winning!), and I noticed that there was a GREAT abundance of flowers on the side of the road. Bright amethyst purples! Golden yellows! Screaming pinks!! I was in heaven...Now this all goes back to a few things about me: I was a total spoiled princess when I was a kid. Not like "here's a pony 'Precious, go have fun"...but if I wanted something reasonable- I got it. Just because I knew how to ask, and was coincedentally charming as a fox! Also as a person who was born an artist- color does something to me- as a child there was no way for me to communicate it- but I NEEDED color. Often I'd use grass and dandilions to stain my keds white shoes in different patterns...Back to the car.

So these great big fiels on the side of the road had me so excited! I couldn't take it any longer and asked my grandpa to pull over so I could pick flowers. First he laughed- and said we were almost to our destination. Then my grandma made a joke about bugs being all over them and that I didn't 'need' those flowers and kept knitting. And I asked again- nicely. Also adding that my mom lets me pick flowers all the time. And yet again my request was met with a no, and a kind joke. So, the fact that I was very wound up about these flowers, and a bit of a brat who just got told no-TWICE; I sort of freaked out. When the story is retold I said a few different things but I remember saying something to the effect of : "IF YOU DON'T LET ME OUT SO I CAN GET FLOWERS I WILL THROW MYSELF OUT THE WINDOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" At a freakishly high decible and legs flailing. FULL OUT TANTRUM. Yeah, that was me. Charming as ever...
My poor grandparents  didn't know what to do, so they caved (mind you at this point my brother who was sleeping woke up asked if we were on the side of the road b/c I had to pee...). I literally picked ONE golden rod, ONE daisy , and ONE queen annes lace. Later that evening when telling my mom about the days events (while I slept  happily with the wilted bouquet in a plastic hotel cup of water next to me)- my mom filled them in on a little secret- She called me (and still does- much to my liking actually) Sara Wildflower and let me run through fields to pick flowers. Yes...I was a hippie even as a kid. And in Ohio it wasn't hard to find fields that had tons of flowers.So she'd stop on the side of the road for me.

So flash forward about 21 years. You'll notice that the majority of my photos are of flowers. This is because something inside of me NEEDS them. And I can't very well (as a sane, rational adult) take them all with me. I can't always pull over to pick goldenrods (though I did once, and there was an enormous weird bug on it that I didn't notice until it was flying around my car...lesson learned. I'm not going to do that anymore). So the second best way (actually the first best way since I don't have to kill them to keep them) for me to feed my drive for flora is to take their picture. So you get to know a little bit about one of the few nicknames my mom has for me, as well as why 97% of the pictures I post are of flowers.

                                                       Me, posing with my loves...

Flowers are amazing and whenever people ask me to choose my favorite I am just comepletey unable to even pick one. Orchids are so exotic and luscious...their scent is positively delicious. Yet at the same time a simple daisy can make me smile and make a day better in an instant.