The Rarest Blooms

The rarest blooms which grow in the garden of my heart:

April 5, 1998

Spring has ripened into its fullness. Small yellow flowers freckle the sides of the roads and hilltops. Delicate tiny five-petaled orange mallow flowers are clustered there too. The aloe vera in our yard has risen up to new heights and its orange blooms announce spring's arrival.

I took heed, knowing the arboretum must be at its most fragrant beauty and urged Laura and Julia to go there. The irises in deep purple, lilac and yellow were blooming in their tri-partite glory.

'Tri-partite glory'
(at the Boyce-Thompson Southwestern Arboretum)

Vivid red tulips opened their petals wide for the inhaling of their sweet essence. Yellow daffodils nodded their perfumed heads to the sun. The rains have made all the bushes along the paths grow thick and richly green.

As I remember the many varieties of blossoms I have seen today, I think of how we humans are like flowers. Some are common, like the dandelions which flourish in eastern soils. Some are rare and sensitive, like violets, and require special care. Some sturdy plants defy the weather. However humanity doesn't always regard its own blooms as they do the petaled kind. As a child, the common dandelion delighted me with its bright yellow cheeriness. I loved the wispy puffs the seeds made and would blow on them to watch the wind take them far. I didn't understand why my father pulled them out of the yard. "They're just a weed," he'd say. Too common, alas! But he would carefully cultivate roses. Their beauty is rare, and thus the more valued. However in humanity, the rare varieties are not always valued. Why is this so?

I love all beauty, both common and rare. The common reassures me with regular and dependable appearances. Yet it is the scarce beauty which holds a special allure for me. I climb high to the tall cliff where the exotic plants grow and wonder at life's myriad possibilities. The unusual shakes me out of complacent routine. It briskly alerts me to fresh combinations of characteristics. My senses awaken keen and I feel more alive.

And thus it is the rarest blooms which grow in the garden of my heart. There, my love for Laura and Julia has taken deep root. It grows, rampant as the weeds which will not die. It grows, despite wind and weather. It defies all who would endanger it. For I have found these two exquisite one of a kind beings and I will shout their colors loud to the world.

© Joan Ann Lansberry
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