October Favorite Photo Story

This is a trilogy of photos (and then some) that illustrate a simply story of a wildflower.

Every since the disappointing yield from my garden inspired me to write about the “Compost Corn” in my Summer Send Off, I have been reflecting on societies idea of “messy.”

We also had a run in with a town weed commissioner who tried to apply a narrow definition of landscaping for us at one of our commercial properties.

It got me thinking about the movement towards more natural landscapes. The newer concept of no-mow May and letting your fall leaves lie in the yard until spring. It got me thinking about how at one point we must have decided one way was better than another, we must have decided to conform to manicured lawns because the individual ideas were too unpredictable.

And this must have scared us. Because somewhere along the line we feared that not everyone would see the beauty of my brother’s urban front yard.

Which brings me back to the humble wildflower at the beginning of this post-

While the blacktop driveway at Sunday Night Supper was being resealed we parked on the adjoining field. Among the cut edge of our new parking spot I saw this untouched swipe of clover and canary grass. For a moment I would have questioned that the lawnmower broke down again but then I saw the Rudbeckia and I knew.

My family-

they love and appreciate the wildflowers.

My dad took the time to cut around this single yellow flower to allow it to live.

To allow it to go to seed.

To allow it the chance to provide new life and to bloom again.

Not everyone would understand this.

Not everyone would see the disorder, the forgotten patch of uncut grass and relate to the moral of this story.

We get swept up in perfection sometimes. We clamor for order and rules. We become arrogant that our way is the universal best practice.

And we become so focused on cleaning things up that we miss out…

We miss out on some of the best things that come from those messy parts of our lives.

My compost corn taught me I couldn’t fight the elements this summer. The well planted garden flooded and the pile of scraps flourished.

If I hadn’t been looking I could have missed all the pumpkins that sprung from that mess. If I would have cleaned it all up I wouldn’t have a dozen different gourds and pumpkins for my fence line this fall.