Number Fun
Amanda skips along the stony trail.
“…sixteen…seventeen, eighteen…nineteen…twenty‑twentyone‑twentytwo‑twentythree…twenty‑four!”
A delighted squeal and she turns around, hands in the air.
“Twenty‑five, Grandma! Twenty‑five dandelion flowers!”
Last week we took this same trail. Greys and browns covered the landscape. Plain. Lifeless.
This week I pull a twig close to my face. Miniature pointed leaves emerge from bulging buds.
“Look!” I call, “chokecherry buds are bursting!”
But Amanda’s attention is absorbed by the brilliant gold in the dust of the gravel pathway.
“…thirty‑seven…thirty‑eight…thirty‑nine…thirty‑TEN!” she shrieks, running towards me. “Thirty‑TEN dandelion flowers!”
“Forty!” I call. “Thirty‑nine, forty.”
Amanda stands still a moment, thinking, “Thank you for the information, Grandma. I will remember. Thirty‑nine, forty.”
And she will remember. Her preciseness can be irritating at times, but it is in her nature. It is her gift.
My mind drifts back many years to a time when her mother was about the same age as Amanda. I was sipping coffee in my kitchen with a friend while our little girls played in the living‑room.
“You know,” said my friend, Jennifer, “I always look forward to this time of the year.”
“You mean the spring flowers?” I asked.
“Well…yes…,” she said. Then with a twinkle in her eye and a sheepish grin she confessed, “It’s the income tax forms. They have arrived. I love numbers. And, I love doing income tax returns.”
I was astounded. How could anyone love filling out income tax forms?
“I like doing something I can succeed at,” continued Jennifer. “The twins mess up everything I do around the house, and Corby’s getting into fights at school. But when I sit down and do income tax returns I can make the numbers come out right.”
I nodded. I understood. Jennifer’s preciseness was irritating at times, but her love of numbers and income tax forms was in her nature. It is her gift.
I tried to think of something I did that felt good and came out right. It wasn’t numbers, but I, too, had something in my life that felt satisfying.
“Thanks for listening,” Jennifer said as she got up to leave. “It’s been a good chat. I can’t say these things to just anyone. They’d think I’m crazy!”
My mind hurtles back to the present as Amanda’s urgent voice bursts through my reverie.
“What comes after forty‑nine, Grandma?”
“Fifty,” I say automatically.
“Thanks!” she says. “Fifty. Fifty‑one, fifty‑two…”
Dandelions! It’s irritating when dandelions keep popping up in my yard where I don’t want them, but they, too, have their place. They grow where other native plants cannot. Few dandelions survive in the rolling hills of ranchland that are a mosaic of shooting star, prairie smoke, aster, pussytoes, clover, milkweed, wild geranium, prairie crocus, Indian paintbrush, lupin and buttercup.
I celebrate Jennifer’s gift with numbers. It is good to have accountants who are picky about getting their work ‘just right’. Income tax, although hated by many, has its place. I enjoy the benefits of a pension plan, excellent health care and good roads to drive on.
I celebrate the ability of these wildflowers to put down deep roots and tenaciously hold onto life through harsh Alberta winters to bloom in beauty each spring. It is their nature. It is their gift.
And I celebrate the effervescent joy of childhood. Maybe, if I hold onto that joy, it will give me hope for the springs that inevitably come after the winters of life.
If you enjoy my High Country News submissions, please see my substack for more: andreakidd.substack.com
Free Classifieds