Thank you for the flowers.

September 4, 2008

Walking through my parents’ yard sometimes feels like a scene from A Midsummer Night’s Dream.  There are flowers of every kind that grow in their soil.  Blossoms that are rich in color and invite you to walk among them. 

There are purple cone flowers and daisies and black-eyed susans and lilies of every hue.  Blooms that stretch a bit further with each passing year and seem at home in their recklessness. 

And I love them all.

I am no hopeless romantic.  I am not easily wooed nor taken by surprise.  I am guarded and careful and unashamed by that profession, but hidden in the depths of me is the faintest hint of someday.

And wildflowers shine a light there.

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