Musings of a Simple Country Man
By Hobie Morris
(Brookfield, NY – Oct. 2017) On Saturday, Oct. 17 Lois cut and carefully arranged in a vase our last garden flowers—large colorful zinnias. By early Sunday morning a light layer of wet snow covered the garden. (By Monday morning a killing frost had ended our growing season.) The zinnias Lois picked on Saturday were warmly nestled together in a crystal vase sitting in the middle of our church’s communion table. This artistic flower arrangement once again bringing vivid remembrances of Kate, a very special friend, neighbor and flower lover. But first…
For many years my beautiful and gifted wife Lois has “religiously” brought to our Sunday morning church service an equally beautiful array of carefully arranged flowers. My special “flower child” has awesome God given talents for taking a wide assortment of flowers and almost magically sculpting them into a magnificent visual masterpiece; a spectacular creation that always beautifies and dignifies our historic church sanctuary.
Lois’ solitary early morning flower collecting adventures are legendary. Often at the break of dawn, regardless of the weather she is out, usually accompanied by our two curious cats—Maverick and Monty—scouting in the fields, forests and our own flower garden for those special floral candidates that only Lois can envision in their uniquely special contribution to the arrangement she has been creating during the night when she should have been sleeping.
By church time we, and the flowers, face the extremely bumpy trip over mostly dirt roads into Brookfield. This is the most nerve wracking part of the entire production. Frantically Lois tries to hold and balance the vases with her two hands while at the same time trying not to spill water on her “Sunday goin’ to church time” outfit; in addition to putting on lipstick—a splash of Red Door perfume and a final pat on her usually cowlicky hair. Doing all this and more, I might add, without letting go of her floral creation. Do you understand now why I call her wonder woman? With a final peck on my cheek, and I’m sure silent prayers for a non-spill trip, her usually grumpy husband—that’s me—fires up the old pickup and we begin bouncing over ruts and holes towards Brookfield.
We have to make one stop before the church spire is visible in the Beaver Creek Valley in the distance. I have to feed Billy, a hobo who lives at the corner of Giles and Waterman Road. For me, at least, Billy’s goat smell isn’t too noticeable. Lois has other opinions as she opens the truck window for a dose of fresh country air. The story of how vagabond Billy became our charge must wait for another time.
After church, flowers once again in hand, we head for home. For many years we faithfully would leave Lois’ flower arrangement with our special friend and neighbor Kate. Kate, like Lois, was a lifelong flower child and always loved and appreciated our special Sunday gift. We still deeply miss Kate, but are confident, among other things, she has already profusely thanked God for all the flowers she so lovingly attended and enjoyed. As Martin Luther supposedly once wrote, “God writes the Gospel, not in the Bible alone, but on trees and flowers and clouds and stars.”
This fall, after several months of almost daily work, this simple country man and his incomparable wife Lois have finished planting in the 10 large church beds hundreds of new lilies, irises, tulips, etc. While doing this in Kate’s memory we often felt her spiritual presence. As Emerson once wrote “all I have seen teaches me to trust the creator for all I have not seen.” Thank you, Kate, and we gladly dedicate these flowers to you and all you meant to so many people in this community. You trusted the Creator for the flowers you could smell and touch and now you know the truth and reality of His other promises that you are seeing now.
Hobie Morris is a Brookfield resident and simple country man.