Look closely. What do you see?
About three years back, I was walking along the roadside and I saw Red Clover blooming in the ditch. I bent over and snapped a picture, a close up, without even giving it much thought.
Later, back home. I opened the pic up on the computer screen and my jaw dropped. It was, is, absolutely stunning! At least I think so.
What we often regard as single blooms are really composite flowers. A cluster of miniature florets forming that glorious efflorescence. And this is what I saw.
A common plant. So common that people don’t seem to notice it. Just walk on by.
The Bumble Bees notice it , though. It seems to be one of their favorites.
But just look at those tiny composite flowers. The angle of the ones at the top produce the effect of looking at flames dancing in a fire.
But straight on, you can see the tiny detail of each independent bloom. The red veins of each. Those vascular bundles of Xylem and Phloem that extend the entire length of the plant. The Pistil, holding the reproductive organs. Each of these tiny flowers will become a seed . . . once the bees do their work. It will transform and appear much like the head of a Dandelion, before the tiny umbrellas balloon its many children to their distant destinations. To start the cycle anew.
And to the side and lower views, you see each of the microblooms’ petals. What an intricate design.
Like a cluster of diminutive orchids.
So many focal points. The camera can’t decide. It zooms in on the tiny hairlike projections in between the hues of crimson.
Three years ago, with the snapping of a picture, I snapped back into life. Back into the life that matters most. Appreciating the real world and all its glory. And this re-awaking was fueled by what some would call the commonplace. Would scarcely give a glance to such a plant. A wildflower. An uncultivated beast.
After all, it’s not a Rose . . .
My friend Vera and I were talking about this in relation to my post Wildflowers yesterday. The uniqueness, the beauty, the ability to recognize and appreciate it before it’s gone. And I think she said it perfectly when she said:
“It’s funny how we are inclined to categorize things as common or rare, forgetting/ignoring the fact that each one is unique within their own kind. It takes wise reminders to be conscious of that. To have the capacity to appreciate beauty while it lasts, or indeed, transience, in general, demands high wisdom and appropriate temperament.”
And so I dedicate this post to her. And if you really want to read some fine poetry, and by “fine” I mean amazing, you should check out her blog. To Dad With Love Poetry.
Until the next wildflower . . .