Dawn Phelps
Columnist
Queen Anne’s Lace graced the embankments and roadsides, standing 2-3 feet tall as my husband Tom and I headed to one of my class reunions in Tennessee.
As we drove through hills and hollows, I noticed clumps of Queen Anne’s Lace blooming profusely along the road. I asked my husband to watch for a place where he could safely pull the car off the road so I could take photos of Queen Anne’s Lace blossoms up close, and he did.
Even when I was a child, I was in awe of the intricate design of the flowers. The lacy-looking white blossoms are usually 3-4 inches across with a tiny drop of color (red or dark purple) in the very center. It is believed that the tiny bit of color attracts insects to pollinate the flowers.
Each large blossom is made up of smaller sections, and each smaller section is made up of many very teensy white flowers. I think God must have had a great time designing that beautiful weed that originated in Europe. It is of the wild carrot family, a plant that can tolerate hot, dry conditions. It is believed to be named for Queen Anne of Great Britain and her great grandmother Anne of Denmark.
I wonder if someone from Europe who migrated to the United States long ago decided to bring along a few seeds to add beauty to the New World, or maybe it was here already. No matter how Queen Anne’s lace got here, it now grows in almost all forty-eight states in the U.S., in some parts of Canada, and it is prolific in Tennessee where I grew up.
When the root is very small, it is edible but only for a short time since the roots quickly become very woody in texture. The roots are supposed to have a carrot-like taste, but I have never tasted one.
What makes Queen Anne’s Lace special to me are the memories that are connected to my mother. She and my daddy were married many years ago on May 10, a little too early in the season for Queen Anne’s Lace to be in full bloom in Tennessee. My mother used to say that she really wanted a bouquet of Queen Anne’s Lace for their wedding.
Instead of a wedding, my parents just made a visit to the preacher’s house to tie the knot—no fanfare. In fact, the story is told that while my daddy was getting “dressed up” so they could elope, my grandmother came into his room and told him that he “needed to marry that girl” from down the road that he had been courting. Not long after my grandmother’s admonition, they returned to my daddy’s house to announce that they were married.
Years later, when my mother and daddy celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary, one of my sisters from Tennessee brought a bouquet of Queen Anne’s Lace back from Tennessee to Kansas on the plane. So, my mother had a bouquet of Queen Anne’s Lace and red roses for their 50th anniversary.
Seeing Queen Anne’s Lace along the roadside is a reminder of my past, my parents, and my mother’s love of the flower (weed). In earlier years I picked some dried seeds and started a Queen Anne’s Lace patch when I lived in the country east of town, and they grew beautifully!
After marrying Tom and moving into town, I wanted to grow Queen Anne’s Lace again. So, on another trip to Tennessee, Tom patiently stopped along a narrow country road so I could pick some dried seeds. I was hoping to grow “a memory” on the east side of our house which I did, but they only lasted for a while.
Memories of a simple object or a flower can take our minds back to our younger carefree days, to those happy times with our family members who are now on the Other Side. It is funny how we attempt to “regrow” our favorite memories from our pasts, and I have tried to introduce a little of “Tennessee” into my life in Kansas.
Tom and I planted a couple of deep red crepe myrtle bushes in our back yard, but they struggle with the hot, dry weather. We also grow hollyhocks—a vivid reminder of red hollyhocks in our back yard in the country in Tennessee when I was a kid—I like the red ones the best! And this year, we planted a bit of rhubarb that resembles the kind my daddy grew—we hope it will adjust to our garden!
Sometimes the simplest thing will momentarily take my mind back to a nostalgic Tennessee memory. To a patch of poke growing by the road, a patch of wild blackberries in a field, or even a patch of blooming Queen Anne’s Lace by the roadside in Tennessee—that’s what happiness feels like!
Flowers always make people better, happier, and more helpful; they are sunshine, food and medicine to the mind.
Luther Burbank
*A correction for Ray Palmer’s 95th birthday party story. Ray worked for Kinder Morgan Natural Gas in Glasco, KS, not Northern Gas. Ray also added that a $4,000 per year insurance increase was “too much for a retired guy”—Ray retired for the second time at the age of 80! Thanks for letting me write your story, Ray!
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