The Pineapple Weed Effect
For days, I’ve been really wanting a pina colada. I can literally taste the refreshing combination of the icey, sweet and creamy concoction of coconut and pineapple. It has been years since I’ve had one or even thought about having one, but lately I’ve had this craving.
When I think about sipping a pina colada, I don’t think about a tropical get away or an island themed bar. No, I think about our old above ground pool, its wooden deck, and my mom floating on a raft soaking in the sun’s rays as they turn her olive skin a shade similar to golden oak. So often during those long summer days it would be just the two of us. She would take a dip and then float while a middle school aged Stephanie would swim laps, dive for pennies, and practice her underwater handstands. Then, when she was thoroughly relaxed and tanned, mom would roll off her raft into the water and say she needed a beverage. I’d run to the house to grab the blender, water, and Bacardi frozen pina colada mix. We’d mix our virgin frozen treats and settle into our chaises, lazy from the sunshine, to sip our refreshments and listen to the radio. Those were some good days.
I can’t think about that oasis of an above ground pool without thinking about the time, sweat, effort, possibly blood, and all the laughs that went into erecting it. One summer day in 1980 something, Mom decided that we needed a pool. She chose the ideal location and estimated that we would need to dig a few inches to level out the ground. Well, those of us who still live to talk about it, will tell you that those inches turned into feet. Mom was the fore(wo)man. My father, brothers, and my sister’s future husband were the muscle. Well, I think the youngest of my brothers was more comic relief. I, along with my sister and my brother’s fiancée, was tasked with screening the dirt and filling a wheelbarrow with the removed rocks. We worked hard and laughed even harder and somehow someone kept the RCA camcorder rolling to capture all the insanity. I’m telling you, that was one great weekend.
That pool remained for close to two decades. It entertained and refreshed us. It was a backdrop at my oldest sister’s wedding. It was where the grandchildren took their first swims. It was my sweet relief after mucking stalls and training horses all day. Then one day it was gone. I don’t know why and when Mom took it down because at the time I was an adult and living my own life. Maybe it was too much maintenance or too convenient for certain someone’s to take advantage of her hospitality. Possibly it had something to do with the town’s building inspector. My guess is that it was a combination of all of the above that led my mom to make that decision. Regardless, it was hers to make.
Now, that area is what it was before the pool was built. It is a garden and it is a different type of oasis. Now, it teems with life as the vegetables and herbs grow and the wrens build nests in the birdhouses. Insects, both pest and beneficial, busy themselves amongst the plants. The compost bin is full of decomposers hard at work making next year’s humus. I can still see Mom laboring away in her gardens, sweat dripping down her face as she pulled weeds and tended to her babies and I wish I had spent more time helping her. I wonder if my kids will ponder the same when I am no longer here tending my garden.
It’s funny how thoughts work; how one leads to another and you find yourself reminiscing about moments of your life that didn’t seem all that significant at the time. What’s even funnier is that all of this nostalgia came about because of a simple weed, a lovely little member of the daisy family that goes by the names wild chamomile and pineapple weed.
Pineapple weed with the former pool site/current vegetable garden in the background.
I was walking down the driveway when I smelled pineapple. I immediately knew from where the scent was coming and it was right under my feet. I couldn’t help but laugh when I thought about the time 20 years prior in the very same spot when my mother got out of her car and declared that she smelled pina coladas. She thought she was having a stroke. I just started cracking up and did the only thing possible to set her mind at ease. I bent down, picked the small flower, crushed it, and held it up to her nose. She inhaled and smiled. She said that she never even noticed the plants before. I may not have noticed them either, but it was my job as an environmental scientist and naturalist to observe such things. Now, here I was traveling down memory lane all because of pineapple weed and the Proust effect .
According to the 20th century French novelist Marcel Proust, author of the longest novel in the world, In Search of Lost Time, sensory stimulations unlock lost memories, bring happiness and fuel creativity. He described how the senses work in harness in the act of reliving emotional experiences from the past. The abstract for the 2014 book The Proust Effect: The Senses as Doorways to Lost Memories by Cretien van Campen states, “The Proust effect refers to the vivid reliving of events from the past through sensory stimuli. Many of us are familiar with those special moments, when you are taken by surprise by a tiny sensory stimulus (e.g. the scent of your mother’s soap) that evokes an intense and emotional memory of an episode from your childhood.” It doesn’t matter whether or not you’ve ever read all seven volumes of his novel, you know exactly what Proust meant. We all do. A scent can bring back a childhood memory just as much as the melody of favorite song.
So that is why I’ve been craving a pina colada and would love to trade my overalls for a bikini. Unfortunately, I cannot physically travel back in time. I can, however, cherish the wonderful memories made during the time I had with my mother. That is why I shared them with my neighbor and my daughter during an impromptu visit, why I’m taking the time to share them with you, and to wonder about the significance of a simple weed.
As I mentioned, pineapple weed is a member of the daisy family and similar to chamomile. Even if you, like my mother, have never heard of pineapple weed, you are surely familiar with both daisies and chamomile. Daisies are symbolic of innocence and purity as well as motherhood and new beginnings while chamomile is a symbol of relaxation and rest. Pineapple weed has never been given any such consideration, but that is going to change today.
I’ve decided that since the pineapple is symbolic of friendship and hospitality that I will combine that with the meanings of the other plants to come up with the perfect answer to the question, “What does pineapple weed symbolize?” Well, maybe it is a symbol of a life well lived with its qualities of childhood innocence, the work of motherhood, much needed rest, and simple friendship. In other words, the pineapple weed is symbolic of wonderful moments passed and ones yet to be made. It symbolizes the best of what was and what still may be. So today that fragrant little petal-less flower means poolside pina coladas with my mom and pina colada ice pops on my neighbor’s front porch with my daughter. How great is it that she happened to have them in her freezer and offered them to us? During our walk home, Hannah asked if we could make real pina coladas. Absolutely! My how life has come full circle.
This was a pleasant wondering and one that made me feel even more connected to my mom and my daughter. I had a wonderful time remembering and sharing all those good times from my youth and feel excited to know that she might one day do the same. So the next time you smell a familiar scent, hear a melody, or see a color that evokes a precious memory, sit with it and feel all the feelings. Take the the time to share it and relive it because, like I keep saying, “Life is wonderful when you just take the time to wonder about it.”
