Yesterday was breezy. But today? The wuthering wind is blowing and roaring almost as though it twists from the ground up, a reminder of how sturdy trees really are. And the flowers pictured in this post? They are the wind’s answer to spring.
I call them my airmail flowers. Airmail because these flowers were planted old school. As nature intended. Seeds were scattered by the wind, probably on a day declared TOO WINDY by moi on Facebook. Probably followed by a rainstorm that woke me during the night. Probably followed by a soggy day when Lucy and Annabelle refused to go outside.
Mother Nature does a good job when left to her own devices.
Last year, I planted a few snapdragons in the pots along either side of our front porch. This spring, those pots are filled with other flowers. Not a snapdragon one. It’s as though they jumped out and relocated to their preferred place in the flower beds. The snapdragon below (top right) appears to be growing through the bricks, but it isn’t. It was growing from beneath a flowerpot of gerber daisies that I moved out of the direct sun. So far it’s a baby snapdragon growing with very little soil. (I may move him to a safer place. One with actual nutrients…)
We also have little volunteer violas and pansies growing everywhere. They, too, started in a pot on the front porch, and two years ago a row of them bordered our front bed. Now they grow in clumps in the backyard and all over the lawn. Mow them down, they pop right back up. Maybe they will take over our grass in survival of the fittest fashion.
All these carefree, grow-where-you-like airmail flowers remind me that sometimes the best things are the simple, natural ones—the ideas that come first, the paths that appear over and over again, quiet times we often try to fill with busyness. Yesterday I stopped in the road to watch a Momma duck cross the road with two ducklings. It was the sweetest thing, the way she urged them along, but not in a hurry as another car queued up behind me. And then another. As wildlife unfolded right in front of me, I felt fortunate to have been in that spot at that time. Fortunate to sit there in my car watching these creatures go about their day, doing what comes natural to them, ruling the road without knowing it.
Or maybe they did.
I can’t help but wonder about all the seeds the wuthering wind is magically scattering today. A gust bringing flowers for summer. Or maybe next spring’s seeds dropped in the smallest of cracks between the stone walkway where I couldn’t grow anything if I tried.
A couple of blocks away, gorgeous Hollyhock grows at the historic Headquarters House. I wouldn’t be upset if the wind delivered a few of those seeds my way.
Hint, hint Mr. Wind, hint, hint.
Grace Grits and Gardening
Farm. Food. Garden. Life.
P.S. Happy Birthday to my youngest! Tate is 24 today. My heart is full.
Bob Dylan, Keith Richards, Ron Wood, Blowin’ in the Wind