Buttercups

Buttercups

This morning, while reading a book, I was reminded of buttercups. The young female protagonist was gifted a pin in the shape of a buttercup.

As my cup of coffee kicked in, I started thinking back to my childhood.

There was something about buttercups …

It took a few minutes to piece it all together, but memories of Mom picking a tiny yellow flower and holding it under my chin gradually broke through the fog.

Buttercup photo courtesy vic15
https://flickr.com/photos/vic15/
Buttercup photo courtesy vic15.

“Let’s see … there it is! You like butter! That’s what the buttercup tells us!”

Of course, I’d hurriedly check her chin with a second buttercup. And sure enough, Mom liked butter, too! Her chin absolutely glowed a buttery yellow.

Next came another test (this morning): Did Mom ever include buttercups in one of her poems?

Sure enough, the proof was in a letter she’d sent long ago to Sister Amabilis, her aunt.

Sister Amabilis and niece Joan Vayo, 1962, Saint Mary School, Milford, Conn.
Here’s Mom in 1962, visiting with her mother’s sister Margaret, Sister Amabilis.

Mom’s letter was dated May 4, 1944.

A Breath of Spring

There’s a dark-throated redstart in splendor arrayed
That’s tilted upon a gray limb;
Serenading a buttercup off in the glade –
With a twitter and fantastic whim
.

A gurgle, a babble, a sweet lilting tune,
The forest brook sings with the breeze,
As she dances and skips in the glow of the moon –
With a canopy gesture of trees.

Dun-spotted fawn sipping there in the glen –
Shy and contented is he.
Indian paintbrush are planted again,
In the wake of the pasture and lea.

Red squirrels and cottontails scampering soft,
To join your companions in game;
Skylark and meadowlark drifting aloft,
Rejoice with the springtime and cherish her name.

~ Joan Cassidy ~ May 1944 (age 14)

A field of buttercups. Photo courtesy James Bowe https://flickr.com/photos/jamesrbowe/
Sweet field of buttercups photo courtesy James Bowe.

“A Breath of Spring” ©1944 Joan Cassidy. All rights reserved.

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2 thoughts on “Buttercups

  1. Paula. I loved this story because it mentioned my dear Sister Amabilis. Of course, I, too, remember putting buttercups under our chins to see if we liked butter. Buttercups were such bright colored flowers! I loved them. Your Mother’s poem was amazing for a girl of 14. I still don’t know what a dark throated restart is or Indian paintbrush either. What an intelligent gal. I’m sure Sister Amabilis enjoyed her letter and poetry so much. Thank you for sharing. Hope all is cc well with you and your family. 🙏 ❤️ 💙 💜 💖

    1. Thank you, Joan! It was such a wonderful memory to relive – Mom was so dear, creating sweet memories that way.
      I said to Gary last night, “Mom’s still teaching me, all these years later,” as I had to look up several of the words in her poem. Even my farmer husband was unfamiliar with the term “lea.”
      Sr. Amabilis kept all of Mom’s letters and returned them to her at some point – what a gift!

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