....."the Guermantes Way with its river full of tadpoles, it's water lilies, and its buttercups have constituted for me for all time the picture of the land in which I would rather pass my life.....the cornflowers, the hawthorns, the apple-trees, which I happen when I go out walking, to encounter in the fields, because at the same depth, on the level of my past life, at once established contact with my heart." .... Proust
And these are the wildflowers of my childhood.....yellow bells, shooting stars (they smell like cinnamon), grass widows, wild roses....and later on, morels to gather in the deep woods. Mushrooms, not wildflowers, but soooo delicious fried up along with a mess of Dad's catch of rainbow trout.
I can draw all of them by heart.