the field in bloom

Over the shoulders and slopes of the dune
I saw the white daisies go down to the sea,
A host in the sunshine, an army in June,
The people God sends us to set our heart free.
- William Bliss Carman, Daisies

Each spring as I walk the trail through the field, I watch the wild things bloom, all in their time. First I smell pungent aroma of the skunk cabbage growing in the wetlands and watch them throw their other-worldy yellow heads out of massive green sheaths. Shortly after, the daisies arrive, one of my favorite flowers. I chose daisies for my wedding bouquet as I love their simplicity and unpretentious nature, the way they tuck their snowy white petals close into themselves at night and the strengh and vigor they need in order to survive in the jungle of field grass, weeds, and rocky soil.

And then there is the scotch broom. Many despise this invasive plant as it takes over the spaces that used to be occupied by field grasses, but I have admiration for this magnificent plant, the way it sends it roots down deep and out, enveloping the surrounding soil and keeping it safe and secure from heavy rains and floods that would wash it down river. And could there be a more beautiful golden yellow? Soon it's blossoms will have withered and dropped and it will once again look like a troublesome branchy bush with intentions to take over the entire valley, but for now, I think it's wonderous.