I feel as though I miss many wondrous occurrences around me as they so often arise from the most ordinary of things. I was reminded of this during my morning walk when I noticed strange stems standing boldly naked, glowing white amidst the riot of green around them. It took me a moment to realize they were dandelions, their silken seed umbrellas knocked away by last night's rain, leaving a stiff frilly ruff behind. They are the most common of flowers. So common, in fact, that I never think about the miraculous changes time works upon them.
In her youth, a dandelion stands boldly, her riotous yellow bloom mimics the sun she so eagerly seeks, calling bees to share in her abundance of pollen. That night, her brazen boldness becomes quiet. Tightly coiled in her frilly green veil, she begins the earnest work of making seeds. The now ragged yellow petals shrivel and fade away, leaving a silken white tuft peeping from the tightly curled bud. When she next opens to the sun, she is clothed in the white lace of her children, her green veil a stiff ruff to support them. She grows ever more ragged as they leave her on their silken umbrellas, floating away to seek a new life upon the breeze. She is left naked, yet strangely beautiful, and quietly fades away into the greenery. Her life's work is done.
Nature has such profound lessons for me. In the life of this humble flower, I see my own mirrored. The changes I will go through. I think of my vibrant, loud youth. I look at my contemplative middle age, less bold, but no less beautiful. I feel as though my "children" are just beginning to go forth into the wild world as my ideas, my actions, and my influence. Just as the dandelion, I may never know where my seeds will drop, who they will touch, or how they will grow. But that is not the point.
The point is.... they made the journey.