“Wildflowers are the stuff of my heart!”
― Lady Bird Johnson
It’s only March and I’m walking the wildflower fields as often as I can. The plants are still mostly dormant (there is a bit of green here and there at ground level) and crunchy and brown. Still, I can’t help myself because their beauty draws me in.
Sometimes when the wildflowers sway in the breeze, it looks like they’re dancing with the sky.
And tiny tips curl and glisten even on the gray days.
Barren stems and their holders (officially called sepals) still look like flowers.
And empty seed pods look like lilies.
It’s a place where cone flowers feed the birds all winter long.
And where I sometimes laugh out loud because a former blossom head looks like my hair when I take my hood off after a cold walk.
And brown is the muted memory of a beautiful season past and the gentle hope of the one to come.
I do love wildflower walks where I pray and He listens and sees me and often gives me the answer my heart needs to hear.
The eyes of the Lord are on the righteous,
and his ears are attentive to their cry.
Psalm 34:15 (NIV)
Until Next Time,