not like being ashamed.  The child in me sulked and said it was all in fun, but the woman in me flinched at the thought of the malicious attack that I had led. “(pg 2)

She could no longer throw those rocks in pure innocence and laugh.  She suddenly understood what she was doing to the old woman.  She felt responsible for the first time.  She had led the attack and was ashamed that she had done so. 

However, her big moment came when she overheard her mother and father talking that night.  Her father had always been the rock of the family.  He was fun to play with and fun to be around.  Her mother had been the soft, steady one who cared for the family.  Her innocence was secure in that relationship.  However, times had been hard, and her father had not been able to find a job.  She heard her mother cajoling her father because he was so upset with his lack of employment.  Her father was actually crying! 

“I did not know men ever cried. I covered my ears with my hands but could not cut off the sound of my father’s harsh, painful, despairing sobs.” (pg 4)

The innocence of her whole world fell apart.

“The world had lost its boundary lines.  My mother, who was small and soft, was now the strength of the family; my father, who was the rock on which the family had been built, was sobbing like the tiniest child.” (pg 4)

Her whole life suddenly crashed, and all she could think of doing was destroying something.  She ran out of the house, and destroyed Miss Lottie’s marigold patch. Miss Lottie caught her, and Lizbeth recounts

“….that was the moment when childhood faded and womanhood began.  That violent crazy act was the last act of childhood.” (pg 5)

She saw Miss Lottie not as the witch they pretended she was when they were children, but as an old, broken woman who had tried to create something beautiful in her ugly world.  She suddenly saw into the pain and the depth of the old woman.  She remarks,

“This was the beginning of compassion, and one cannot have compassion and innocence.” (pg 5)

At the end of the story, she remarks that she remembers those marigolds from time to time.  The marigolds represented to her the bright side of a dark and barren town. She says that you do not have to be poor to live a barren life.  So she too has planted marigolds ---- little bright spots in her life.

My copy of the story came from the internet, so the page numbers may not exactly coincide with yours, but they should be close.

As an adult, Lizabeth realizes that at fourteen, she had had an epiphany about why Miss Lottie planted marigolds. Lizabeth explains that her innocence was lost at the very moment she discerned the truth.

Innocence involves an unseeing acceptance of things at face value, an ignorance of the area below the surface. In that humiliating moment I looked beyond myself and into the depths of another person. This was the beginning of compassion, and one cannot have both compassion and innocence.

Throughout her childhood, Miss Lottie had always been the subject of Lizabeth's childish contempt. She shared her brother, Joey's suspicion that Miss Lottie was a witch. Since Miss Lottie never had any visitors, and no one knew how she maintained her living, Miss Lottie became the subject of much speculation. Chief among Lizabeth and Joey's concerns was that Miss Lottie's marigolds looked out of place on her property:

They interfered with the perfect ugliness of the place; they were too beautiful; they said too much that we could not understand; they did not make sense. There was something in the vigor with which the old woman destroyed the weeds that intimidated us.

The enthusiasm and energy Miss Lottie displayed towards the tending of her marigolds unnerved the children. As she reminisces about Miss Lottie, Lizabeth also comes to realize that her perverse contempt towards the old woman had been the product of her own childish, myopic view of life. She comes to understand that, to Miss Lottie, the marigolds had represented an act of rebellion against the 'ugliness and sterility' of her impoverished life. Now, as an adult, Lizabeth confesses that she has planted marigolds as her own act of rebellion, during moments of her life when everything had seemed 'barren' and hopeless.

Yet, there are times when the image of those passionate yellow mounds returns with a painful poignancy. For one does not have to be ignorant and poor to find that his life is as barren as the dusty yards of our town. And I too have planted marigolds.

Lizbeth faces several conflicts during the summer she describes in "Marigolds." It is most fundamentally a coming-of-age story, expressed through her memories of a single incident. That conflict is internal, of youth versus age, child versus adult. The central incident concerning the actual flowers also expresses reason contrasted to emotion, and within emotion, affection contrasted to rage. More broadly, her family’s poverty during the Great Depression shapes the overall conflictual situation, of desire contrasted to privation. She calls poverty a cage. The conflicts she presents in the story are not resolved during its action; rather, her adult self is reflecting on that time from a perspective years and “worlds away.”

Joy and rage and wild animal gladness and shame become tangled together in the multicolored skein of fourteen-going-on-fifteen as I recall that devastating moment when I was suddenly more woman than child, years ago in Miss Lottie’s yard. . . . I remember, that year, a strange restlessness of body and of spirit, a feeling that something old and familiar was ending, and something unknown and therefore terrifying was beginning.

One particular act of reckless destruction, which made her ashamed but also taught her something about adulthood, continued to exert its power: "I recall that devastating moment when I was suddenly more woman than child, years ago in Miss Lottie’s yard.”

Awareness of the true extent of her family’s economic situation is beyond the child, but its effects shape her reckless actions that day.

Poverty was the cage in which we all were trapped, and our hatred of it was still the vague, undirected restlessness of the zoo-bred flamingo who knows that nature created him to fly free. . . . For one does not have to be ignorant and poor to find that his life is as barren as the dusty yards of our town.

In numerous places, the narrator highlights the internal conflict by presenting the child Lizabeth’s awareness of her state, both through her own feelings and her awareness of her parents’ situation. She speaks of “the bewilderment of being neither child nor woman and yet both at once . . . ” and tells us that “all the smoldering emotions of that summer swelled in me and burst. . . . And these feelings combined in one great impulse toward destruction.”

Two related parts convey the conflict. One consists of her two actions in tormenting Miss Lottie and then returning to destroy her beloved marigolds. The child in her thought it fun to annoy Miss Lottie, an “old black witch-woman” who seemed to be at least a hundred years old. Calling her a witch had been a childhood pastime, as the kids revel in their youth and mock her age. One day something wells up in Lizabeth and she unleashes her frustration on the old woman. First she screams “Old witch!” at her repeatedly; later that night she returns and pulls up her flowers, sensing somehow that “they were too beautiful; they said too much that we could not understand; they did not make sense." Shocked by her own destructive force, being confronted by the grieving Miss Lottie marks the end of childhood.

I scrambled to my feet and just stood there and stared at her, and that was the moment when childhood faded and womanhood began. That violent, crazy act was the last act of childhood. For as I gazed at the immobile face with the sad, weary eyes, I gazed upon a kind of reality which is hidden to childhood. The witch was no longer a witch but only a broken old woman who had dared to create beauty in the midst of ugliness and sterility.

Another marker of the child-to-adult passage is inadvertently witnessing her parents’ powerlessness, and understanding the true effects of poverty. Her father’s frustration and his inability to earn and provide spills over into tears.

I had never heard a man cry before. I did not know men ever cried. I covered my ears with my hands but could not cut off the sound of my father’s harsh, painful, despairing sobs . . . How could it be that my father was crying?

Lizabeth has to feel lost in order to find her adult self.

The world had lost its boundary lines. My mother, who was small and soft, was now the strength of the family; my father, who was the rock on which the family had been built, was sobbing like the tiniest child. Everything was suddenly out of tune, like a broken accordion. Where did I fit into this crazy picture? I do not now remember my thoughts, only a feeling of great bewilderment and fear.

At the story’s end, the adult Lizabeth tells us what she learned when she looked into Miss Lottie’s face, and how it stays with her. Growing beautiful flowers means being an adult.

In that humiliating moment I looked beyond myself and into the depths of another person. This was the beginning of compassion, and one cannot have both compassion and innocence…. [There are times when the image of those passionate yellow mounds returns with a painful poignancy. And I too have planted marigolds.

In the story, Lizabeth's adolescence is a major motivating factor in her behavior. We are told how Lizabeth feels from the very beginning of the story. The narrator (Lizabeth) takes us back to that fateful summer, when she was fourteen years old and "more woman than child." Although Lizabeth felt superior to her then eleven-year-old brother, Joey, she privately nursed lingering doubts about her place in life.

Lizabeth and Joey were the only children living at home at the time. The older ones had either married or moved to the city for employment. Lizabeth reveals that the two youngest children were living with relatives. During that awkward summer, Lizabeth's sense of security was devastated by a change in the family's status quo. Her father was unemployed and had few prospects for finding gainful work. Meanwhile, her mother, "small and soft," was suddenly thrust into the role of family breadwinner.

Lizabeth felt bewildered and frightened by the changes. She recalls hearing her father cry and admits that she had "never heard a man cry before" and, at the time, "did not know men ever cried." In Lizabeth's case, the upheaval of family life (occasioned by economic circumstances) added to the turmoil of adolescence.

Where did I fit into this crazy picture? I do not now remember my thoughts, only a feeling of great bewilderment and fear.

In that light, Lizabeth's actions can be understood from the prism of her adolescent consciousness. We are told that Lizabeth went on to destroy all of Miss Lottie's marigolds. We also learn that Lizabeth did not realize the import of her actions until after she glimpsed the sorrow on the old woman's face. It was at that moment that Lizabeth lost her innocence forever. She gained compassion for others when she lost the naivety of childhood.

The original question is, How does Lizabeth's adolescence affect her decisions and actions in the story?

When Lizabeth destroyed Miss Lottie's marigolds, she was motivated by pure emotion. Her adolescent mind took center stage. Scientists tell us that the prefrontal cortex is less developed in the adolescent than in the adult. What does the prefrontal cortex do? First, it is the decision-making center of our brain. The prefrontal cortex processes how we make decisions and how we weigh the present and future consequences of our actions.

In other words, the prefrontal cortex is all about rational decision-making. You can read more about the prefrontal cortex from the two links below.

In Lizabeth's case, she acted out of her rage, grief, and fear. She was at an extremely vulnerable period in her life. Her father was out of work, and her mother was suddenly thrust into the role of family breadwinner. At the time, Lizabeth also felt abandoned. Her mother had little time for her, and her father was incapacitated by his own grief.

Scientists tell us that the amygdala is better developed than the prefrontal cortex in teenage brains. So, what does the amygdala control? It is in charge of the processing of emotions. When we act on our gut instinct, we're relying on our amygdala to guide us. You can read more about the amygdala and how the teen brain works from the link below.

In the story, Lizabeth acted out of emotion and instinct. In other words, we can partially blame biology for her erratic and emotion-driven actions. Scientists would say that her underdeveloped prefrontal cortex caused her to throw all caution to the wind and destroy Miss Lottie's marigolds. In the story, Lizabeth admits that adolescent angst was behind her thoughtless and cruel actions those many years ago:

The years have put words to the things I knew in that moment, and as I look back upon it, I know that that moment marked the end of innocence. Innocence involves an unseeing acceptance of things at face value, an ignorance of the area below the surface. In that humiliating moment I looked beyond myself and into the depths of another person. This was the beginning of compassion, and one cannot have both compassion and innocence.

In "Marigolds," the reader meets Lizabeth at two points in her life, as an adult and years earlier as an adolescent. The adult woman clearly expresses how she reflects on the events concerning the marigolds. The young Lizabeth also shows some changes in perspective.

The grown woman generally provides a "frame": she establishes the surrounding structure in which the main story unfolds. At the beginning and end, the change in perspective from child to adult is revealed. At the beginning, she tells the reader she will be talking about the past. At the end, she explains that she gained compassion that day. She also expresses this, literally and metaphorically, saying, "I too have planted marigolds."

In the earlier-period reminiscence, Lizabeth shows the change in relationship to Miss Lottie and to her own parents.

Lizabeth feels torn between childhood and maturity. When she goes to Miss Lottie's home, she not only acts childishly, but she also regresses to juvenile behavior. Her outburst, "Old witch! Old witch!" shows her acting younger than her age.

When Lizabeth returns home after the name-calling incident, she overhears her parents talking. They are so worried about money that her father starts to cry. Hearing this brings about a change that she at first does not understand. She is shaken up because she has never heard her father cry before and did not know it was even possible for men.

Unable to process this new view, she expresses her emotions as anger and then takes out her rage on Miss Lottie's flowers. She angrily rips out the marigolds.

The biggest change comes when Miss Lottie confronts her but treats her kindly. "Why?" is her question. It is her sad face more than her words that inspires the change in Lizabeth. She begins to understand why anyone would put in so much work to bring beauty into their drab, dusty world.

This change was probably permanent. At least we know at the end that she still retains the knowledge about why beauty matters. As an adult she also fully understands why a parent would cry. Planting marigolds is her expression of those changed perspectives.