Aug 30, 2015
Just to see this lowly plant as it was starting to bloom made me cringe. It swayed in the ditches and along with the tall grasses as I walked the field roads at my grandma’s. Those field roads were well worn over the summer with foot prints of us kids, a gaggle of cousins that gathered and adventured at the farm. The dusty road lead to the big garden at the edge of the woods at grandma’s place.
What was the culprit that symbolized an end to the fun, an end of summer? Golden Rod. I recall around 6th grade seeing it come into bloom and knowing school was just around the corner. No more carefree treks to play in the woods. No more tomato fights or water balloon wars. No more filthy feet that could run across rocks as if they had leather bottoms. Soon socks would be required. Corduroy pants, too. I dreaded back to school shopping as if it were an execution. School meant having to be confined indoors, stuck sitting at a desk all day. The vibrant yellows of Golden Rod meant the end was near. The final blow? The annual Jerry Lewis telethon. The end had arrived.