I have always enjoyed nasturtiums.
My first memory of this pretty little flower was the summer that my little sister was born. There was an older lady in our neighborhood. She was a housekeeper and must have spent many hours alone. During the long hot summer afternoons she would walk to our house to visit with my mother. She always brought flowers from her garden. Most often they were a joyful array of yellow, red and orange nasturtiums.
Her name was Dusty, an unusual name, but at the age of four I accepted that that was just her name. Mom, Dusty and I would sit on the porch, talking and drinking lemonade, while Dusty held and rocked the baby.
As I approach Dusty’s age and have grandchildren of my own, I know now how much she must have treasured those afternoons. These are pleasant memories to think about while gathering flowers to garnish the Palmer House’s breakfast plates.