I admire most the unlikely flowers, those dropped from an apathetic wind and pushing up tall and strong from unfriendly soil.
I wonder, sometimes, how that feels, having been more of a potted plant myself.
Is there time for a wild seed to ponder its place in the fickle universe or are its days filled with efforts to coax nutrients from rain water and sustenance from the sun?
I think about this from time to time, especially when I spy a particularly startling bloom.
For instance, I recently saw a gorgeous petunia growing from a crack in the sidewalk downtown.
I smiled as I strode past, and then stopped and turned around.
It is difficult enough for a garden petunia, watered from a hose and fertilized precisely, to maintain its bloom well into August. How is it that this lone plant, stuck on the edge of a city street, thrived?
Some plants summon reservoirs of strength from places maybe even they didn’t know they had.
I find it especially generous, then, for them to share that hard won beauty with the world.