I love September: the cooler nights, sweatshirts, and the return to school and regular schedules.
When we were children, we spent late September afternoons playing along the ditches, fencerows, and woods until we were called for supper. We played hard, enjoying the release of energy after a long day at school.
We always searched for interesting things, especially along and in the ditches. That’s where we first encountered milkweed pods. The stems and leaves of the milkweed plant had dried by late September, and the brown, bumpy shells clung to hard, thick stems.
We snapped the crispy hulls off the stalks, popped them open, and seed-speckled fluff fell into our hands. Who knew such softness existed! Oh, how we loved finding them! Oh, the fun of releasing the silky strands to float away in the autumn breeze!
There were other interesting plants: prickly teasel seed heads, plump pokeweed berries, fuzzy cattails. We found small puffballs we called “dust bombs” in the woods. These we stomped, sending plumes of dusty, brown spores airborne.
These discoveries were magical and exciting. Dad loved seeing us active and playing outside and must have witnessed our adventures.
One night he talked about his time at country school and how children collected milkweed pods during WWII for life preservers for sailors. I listened but didn’t ask much about it. And as I got older, I became skeptical. It seemed like a strategy to keep kids busy or feeling a part of the war effort at home. I couldn’t imagine how milkweed fluff would keep anyone afloat.
I didn’t ask more about it.
Fast forward nearly sixty years.
Milkweed plants are again part of my life. When I walk Zippy, the sweet fragrance of the plant’s blossoms greets us. The scent is intoxicating. Exquisite.
I notice milkweed in the weedy backs of neighbors’ yards. Along fields’ edges.
About a week ago I recalled my dad’s claims and did some research.
According to many credible sources, rural children did collect milkweed pods. They filled mesh potato and onion bags and hung them to dry on fence posts. There was a shortage of kapok, a fiber used during this time as filling in life preservers. Scientists discovered that milkweed “floss” was a great substitute and would keep a “150 lb. sailor afloat for 40 hours.” There was even a slogan: “Two bags save one life.”
I can picture my eight-year-old father and his little brother John, busy gathering milkweed pods, knowing they were helping save lives. I bet the brothers had picking contests, because that’s what siblings do. They would have known exactly where to look.
I love imagining those sweet little boys and their energy and excitement.
I have never planted milkweed plants in our gardens, but this fall I will collect a few pods in late September. Perhaps I can find some along the ditch banks where my dad and uncle searched and where my brothers and I played.
And next summer I will drink my coffee and watch the butterflies and bees collect the glorious nectar.
It’s a Fine Life.
