|Common Jewelweed a kind of Touch-Me-Not, (Impatiens capensis).
This is a post about something that’s a common experience, and it’s probably happened to you too.
Gardeners and plant people see the world differently, but we’re human after all, and many of us can also be sentimental in how we see the world around us. Sometimes this can help us when we’re not feeling so comfortable. It’s through these stories we often find our own release and can be set free again.
Here’s my story.
Anthropomorphizing isn’t just for poets, or maybe it is…
Sometimes we just see wildflowers, but at other times, we grab them and want to hold onto them and own them. So often they are ephemeral and delicate and once picked they droop and fade quickly. They’re not often as sturdy as other plants. And yet, that’s what makes them so special to us.
Our human desire to capture that brief momentary beauty can be a rush that evokes in us a kind of lust for something we can never truly possess.
And wildflowers are necessary to us because they are not the shrubs or trees in our lives. They are something far more special and their beauty touches us much differently.
If I were a wildflower, I’d be a Touch-Me-Not. In my moment I don’t just droop over and let my seeds trickle out, or worse yet, blow away in the wind. This is not the showiest of seed heads, but it’s energetic and active.
I am a seed collector and I’ve grabbed many wildflower seed heads—but only after their blooms had faded and the plants were near gone.
This summer I reached out and grabbed a wildflower and it faded quickly and when I went back to look inside for seeds, there were none.
Someone had been there long ago to drain the plant of its seeds. So now I’m walking away empty handed—but with the memory of the momentary pleasure of the bloom.