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</o:shapelayout></xml><![endif]--></head><body lang=EN-US link="#0563C1" vlink="#954F72"><div class=WordSection1><p class=MsoNormal>608 words<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal align=center style='text-align:center'>Dogwood Blossom<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal align=center style='text-align:center'>By DeAnna Quietwater Noriega<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal> Lisa loved the spring. The air was fresh with a touch of chill in it and the wild flowers lifted bright faces to drink the gentle gold of sunlight. Grandma Emma had given her the name Dogwood Blossom, because she said that she was such a beautiful baby and was born in spring. Grandpa Elijah had made a cradle board for her and Grandma had used porcupine quills and glass trade beads to put dogwood flowers on it. They hadn’t been happy when their eldest daughter, Mary Esther, ran off with Isaac Swan. All was forgiven though, when Mary Esther returned home with their first grandchild. Everyone in her family had both birth certificate names and Chippewa ones that were given to reflect who they were as people. Grandpa’s name was Red bird and Grandma Emma’s was Twilight Woman. Mamma’s was Little Dove. Lisa was glad to be Chippewa and to have a special name that was chosen to reflect the kind of person she was rather than an ordinary name. There were at least three girls named Lisa at her school in town, but she was the only girl she knew named Dogwood Flower. <o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>She liked to call a friendly “Hello,” to the dogwood tree that grew in her backyard. Each spring, it was covered with beautiful flowers. In the summer, the tree provided plenty of shade and it had lovely autumn leaves too. Today, Lisa was sitting under its flowering branches, doing her homework. She glanced up at the sound of a car, pulling into the driveway to the left of her home. Something fell from the branches of the thorn apple tree that grew between the side of the house and the gravel drive. The car jerked to a stop, but not in time to avoid hitting a falling bundle. <o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Lisa dropped her math book and raced to the driver’s side of the car. Mariah Big Elk sat stunned behind the wheel. Ryan sent-up a wail from his perch in the tree. <o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>“Mrs. Big Elk, are you alright?” asked Lisa. <o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Mariah Big Elk’s voice shook as she asked “Did I hit one of your brothers?” <o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Lisa glanced to confirm her suspicion. “No, it was a dummy I made out of some of Ryan’s outgrown clothes. Ryan come down and tell Mrs. Big Elk you are sorry for scaring her!”<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Ryan clambered down and presented his tear smudged face beside Mariah’s car window. <o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>“I’m sorry! Max isn’t a very good tree climber. We were playing in our tree and he just fell-out. Lisa explained, “Ever since Little League practice started up, our brother Mike has been too busy to play with our little brother. Lisa scrambled to retrieve the pair of small jeans, flannel shirt and hooded sweatshirt that she had stuffed as a playmate. <o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Mariah looked down at the small boy, clutching his scarecrow buddy. “You had better not take Max up into trees any more. Your new friend certainly scared this old crow falling out of that tree in front of my car. Lisa, I was stopping off to bring your family some of my rhubarb jam. I know your mother doesn’t have much time to grow a garden and put up things, having to work two jobs like she does. My rhubarb is going to be ready again soon, so I am clearing out last year’s extra jars.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>“Thank you! We love your jams and jellies. Grandpa says you make the best root beer and pickles on the Rez. You are kind to gift us with this jam.” Lisa clasped the jam and bent her head respectfully to the elder of her clan. <o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p></div></body></html>