By KAREN MADORIN
Walking into a garden center invites a flood of memory. Just turning in the driveway works like Pavlov’s Bell for convicted gardeners. Scents of soil, spicy petunias, heirloom roses, and dozens of other flowers trigger thoughts of grandma gardens and long ago visits to loved ones now passed. A trip down the vegetable aisle adds dozens more flashbacks to harvests of yore and hours of satisfying canning and jelly making. Who’da thunk a metal yard art peacock near the entry would overwhelm those other childhood remembrances.
I’d stopped for strawberry plants, so imagine my surprise to find myself loading a 2 1/2 foot tall, brilliantly colored metal peacock into the back seat of our Toyota. Luck was with me because it was half price, and once my eyes landed on it, I needed it. From first glance, sounds and sights of peacocks pee-yaaaahing and strutting at Meade Lake during childhood visits inundated my mind.
As youngsters, my cousins and I looked forward to summer visits to our grandparents in Meade. From the moment we entered their home, we couldn’t wait for Grandpa to impersonate that high-pitched, drawn-out wild call. He’d done it so often he sounded exactly like a peacock. Upon hearing that plaintive screech, requests to head to the lake escalated.
As a bonus, Grandma turned it into a festive picnic. Her fried chicken and best-ever potato salad tucked into an old-fashioned wicker basket along with other necessities heightened our anticipation. Grandpa tossed a blanket in the trunk in case other families had claimed tables in the picnic area where the flock of peacocks, peahens, and pea babies roamed near an artesian spring bubbling from deep in the earth.
Once we arrived, our grandparents turned us loose to seek brilliant-colored tail feathers male peacocks lost when they spread and rattled them in a courtship dance as old as time. Though it was past the usual breeding season of these exotic birds, those fellas still fanned their iridescent turquoise, emerald green, bronze, and electric blue tails sporting imbedded eyes. Ironically, as is often the case in nature, the females appeared drab compared to the males
As we scampered about grounds shaded by century-old, towering cottonwoods gleefully waving fists full of bright feathers, Grandpa encouraged the peacocks to respond to his realistic pee-yaaaaah! To our delight, at least one always answered.
From my current grandma perspective, I’m certain my grandparents looked forward to this excuse to change up schedules so they could haul grands to this far southwest Kansas oasis. The lake, the WPA era bathhouse, the winding trail to the artesian spring, groves of century-old cottonwoods, and those fanciful, out of place peacocks offered welcome respite from the daily grind of running a dime store on hot summer days.
For us, it formed life-long memories, even though those recollections hid until I spied that bright lawn ornament at a local garden store. Now, that peacock sits in my flower bed to remind me daily of precious times with loved ones.