Tuesday, August 25, 2009


I don't know what the scientific name for this plant (weed?) is but we call 'em poppers.

They're nature's little jack-in-the-box.

They "ripen" (bloom?) in late August. First you find a good fat one. Then, ever so delicately, you remove it from the bush by grasping it at the stem. VERY important not to grab the little sucker itself. That's a wasted popper.

Put it in your own hand, or you can surprise pop it into an unsuspecting sibling's hand. (really robust one's are best saved for this)

When you're ready, nudge the mini explosive ever so gently. Just when you think it's a dud... BOING! A silent detonation that may make your heart do a skippety skip.

When I was a kid, every year we would go to Grandpa's at the end of August. It was always a bittersweet trip because even though we were at our favorite vacation place, it meant school was imminent.

But that fact was softened by the abundance of poppers there just waiting to fulfil their popping destiny.

Grandpa would have been 107 (I think) today.

Happy Birthday!


  1. OK, now you've got us all crying. Thinking about "poppers" sure does bring me back, though.

  2. I knew Mary would have that comment.

    I don't remember that pic. of Grandpa.


  3. I took it. Right around the time I graduated from high school.

  4. Such a sweet post... those girls are adorable.