Texas Wildflowers and St. Patrick's Day

I wrote this for my e-newsletter last week. I had so much positive feedback that I thought I'd post it to my blog for others to read. That's a photo of me taken on the farm where the Bluebonnets bloomed and, as you can see, so did the wild prickly poppies! Enjoy...

So you might be wondering: What do Texas Wildflowers, my art and St. Patrick's Day have in common? How could there be a connection?

To explain that, I need to tell you about my early years, growing up on a farm outside of Floresville, Texas, and a little about my dad.

In case you don't know, Floresville is located south of San Antonio and is believed to have been named for its early founders, the Flores family (who came here from the Canary Islands, but that's another story). But I always liked to think that it was a play on the Spanish term for flowers and was named for "town of flowers." Very appropriate, don't you think?

I am the youngest of four children and spent my childhood roaming the fields and creeks of our farm with my sister. I have many memories of coming across a bed of clover and looking for that elusive 4-leaf specimen. While Irish, that's not the real St. Patrick's Day connection that I'm writing about today.

My dad moved the family from Corpus Christi where he had a heavy equipment business and took up farming and ranching. He'd plan the crops, making use of the land, plowing under the weeds and grass as needed. There was, however, one corner of one field right at the front entrance of our farm that my dad did not plow under. And each Spring, Mother Nature provided the most glorious display of Texas Bluebonnets. Even so, I remember asking him one day why he did not plow that field. He told me that he liked the flowers.

Of course, this flew in the face of conventional farming wisdom of the time. It was the early 1960s and Texas was just emerging from a horrific drought from the previous decade. The neighboring farmers, no doubt, shook their heads in disbelief that my dad would prefer the wildflowers, which many considered to be nothing more than weeds, over a crop that would be harvested or, at least, baled into blocks of hay to feed the cattle.

About the time that the Bluebonnets would start to bloom in March was special in another way. My father was born on St. Patrick's Day. Not only did mid-March signal the start of Wildflower season, but it was also a time to celebrate my dad's birthday.

My father encouraged my art from a very early age and as I developed my skills in my teen years and into my early 20s, he became my biggest fan. He died a few days after his birthday almost 30 years ago. Not a St. Patrick's Day passes that I don't think of him. But more than that, I owe my love and appreciation for Wildflowers to this amazing man who was willing to let a field of weeds bloom, which created not only colorful childhood memories but influenced what would become my life's work decades later.

Thank you letting me share this little story with you today. Happy Wildflower Season and Happy St. Patrick's Day!