They say “April showers bring May flowers,” and what an assortment of flowers they bring. I’ve always loved the springtime, and nothing impacts that love quite like wildflowers.
Flowers are beautiful, even domesticated varieties, but wild flowers have a spirit all their own. They grow wherever they want without the need for the cultivated touch of human hands, beautifying often otherwise bland landscapes. Even magnificent landscapes are improved by their presence.
I’ve always had an affinity toward wild things in general. It’s just part of me. Ever since I was a child I spent as much time as I could exploring the wilderness, trying to escape civilization any chance I had, and along these journeys wildflowers were always a fascination for me. They are a reminder of an epoch of history when the world and life was much more natural, and unprocessed by scientific engineering.
They are more than just pretty little blossoms to me. Wildflowers are sensual beings who fill the air with hypnotic fragrances, arousing and seducing the many species around them to come explore their allure in an erotic dance that perpetuates the abundance of life on this lonely rock drifting through empty space.
Wildflowers are uncivilized, barbaric in their beauty, and defiant in their tenacity to thrive. They persist with unrelenting certainty that they shall … flourish … as they grow across the land whether in the deep woods, along busy streets, or even peeking out from a crack in the sidewalk.
They are everywhere, fully pervasive and free.