Making a name for yourself while gathering buttercups

We were nearing the end of June and I wasn’t sure if I was looking more forward to the end of the school year or bug season.

Both were getting in the way of my enjoyment of the sunny pre-summer afternoons.

On one particular afternoon, my sister Erin and I were captivated by the millions of Buttercups growing in the shoulder of the road near our Limekiln Lake house.

No sooner did our feet hit the driveway in exiting the school bus did we shed our windbreakers, drop our books, and head for the lush green woods.

When I suggested that we pluck some Buttercups, Erin said, “We should see how many we can pick.”

We would need something to put the flowers in, so I rummaged through the garage and found two old Cool Whip containers.

It was just a short stroll to the area blanketed by the small yellow flowers.

One by one, Erin carefully plucked each tiny blossom.

However I grabbed them by the hand-full leaving little or no stem.

I had half-filled my container when I spied a large toad sunning himself in the sandy soil.

I gave him a poke with my finger, but he just readjusted himself and slowly turned his back on me.

No matter how hard I tried I could not get him to hop.

I figured he must have been too full to move after a day of eating bugs.

I went back to picking as Erin announced she had enough for a nice bouquet and was going back to the house.

I began counting the flowers I had collected, losing track after 400. My new goal was to simply fill the container.

After a half-hour it was heaping with miniature yellow beauties so I decided to go back home.

As I walked back down the road I tried to balance the posey-filled container on my head.

Though I made careful steps it toppled over and the contents spilled on the driveway.

The little yellow petals looked so cool that I sat down and spelled out my name with them.

I finished off the work of art by making a giant swirl border around my name.

I stepped back and admired my handiwork.

And I wondered how long it would take the wind and rain to wash away my Buttercup masterpiece.

Mitch Lee, Adirondack native & storyteller,

lives at Big Moose Lake.ltmitch3rdny@aol.com