Day 1, If I were a Flower

You know, people never really give much thought to flowers. They look them over, admiring their beauty and fragrance and then they just forget about them. Me, I have thought about flowers a lot and always felt a garden was a lot more like a high school full of different individuals forming their own little cliques. Each flower has its own unique personality.

Take roses for instance, they of course would be the popular mean girls. They are beautiful and coveted but if you aren’t careful with them you might very well find yourself full of thorns and stabbed in the back. Just like those girls, roses are short lived. They reach there prime early and then, once their beauty fades, there is nothing left but a vase full of wilted thorns.

Black-Eyed Susans would be the jocks, they stand tall and proud. They are sturdy and bold and the eye is naturally drawn to their daring. Rebels would be the lilies who kind of do their own thing and grow wherever they darn well please without any sort of reason or restraint.

And you know that annoying kid that is so hyper and never leaves you alone, the one who always seems to be in your way when you are trying to get your work done, he would be a dandelion. I kind of like dandelions, even if they are weeds. You can always depend on their bright yellow to cheer you up when you are down. Plus, dandelions grow into those white, puffy things that just seem magical, the stuff that wishes are made of.

Me, I would want to be a crocus, even if it is a bit of an understated flower. The tiny crocus sort of sneaks up on you, its green shoots slowly creeping up through the muck which winter has left behind. You trudge by it every day, unaware that it is trying so hard to grow strong and face the cold, harsh world. Then it awakens.

Along the sidewalk, where you walk every day, in a dark world that is still in the grips of the grayness of winter, it appears almost out of nothingness. That smoky, violet bloom’s awakening lets the world know that good things are around the corner and that you will be able to survive too.

Even in a group, the crocus seems to stand alone, independent and surprisingly strong given its stature. It isn’t the prettiest flower and no one wants to pluck it and stick it in a vase. After enduring the cold, the crocus doesn’t mind one bit being left to enjoy the sunshine. It earned it.

Yes, I think if I were a flower, I would definitely be a tiny purple crocus that people cant help but smile at.