“Look at all the pretty colors!” I said at the nursery. “I want flowers, too!” My property has lots of trees, grâce à Dieu, but no flowerbed, save the planter filled with bulbs (and purple ones at that!).
They’re over there, not over here, by the back door. I want flowers right here, where I enter the house. Something that says, “Hey, come on in and set a while.” Even if it’s just to myself.
Ah! I should just look a short way away from the front door, if I really want to be astounded by the weirdness that is a flower. Pretty store-bought varieties gracing the back door are not the only ones to set up house at my house.
This prickly weed popped up on the side of the driveway. I’ve been watching it grow for about a month now – it’s about two feet tall. Norm believes that it’s not a plant at all – it’s an alien pod. He may be right.
Even so, I asked him not to mow it. What if that pretty pink hue belies a nascent being, waiting for its moment to infect humans or snatch our bodies?
What if its thorns suggest that this is just a weed?
Perhaps the flower wrapped up in thorns will open and have its day to be acknowledged….as what?
Just because a being is different, unfamiliar, or completely misunderstood does not mean it is a weed.
It’s just a flower of another kind.
Being different is allowed.