Tending to wild ideas

Tending to wild ideas

It was an impulse purchase.
A packet of wildflower seeds
positioned on an end-cap
display in the hardware store.

Sprinkled in the soil on the far side
of the yard, out of sight, they got lots 
of sun, but little water.

At first, with the picture from the 
seed packet fueling my imagination,
it was easy to remember
to water them.

And some seeds did sprout, but
not for long because they were
sprinkled on the far side of
the yard, out of sight,
where they got lots of light,
but little water.

And I forgot.

Only the cosmos seeds were hardy
enough to withstand the hot
sun and drought ...
from the watering can
and Mother Nature.

But even so, there were just
a few cosmos stalks with
pea-size buds. They were slow
growing and unadorned with flowers.

At summer's end it was clear,
there would be no picture-perfect
mass of wildflowers on the far
side of the yard where they
would get lots of light,
but little water.

And then it rained.
For two days.

And a flower bloomed.

And then another.
 
I marveled at how
they flourished.

How quick
they were to respond.

And it occurred to me that the
blooming wildflowers are
a lot like ideas.

Yours and mine.

The ones that stick with us,
the ones that persist, returning again
and again, despite being put
on a shelf, tucked in a drawer, or
planted on the far side of yard.

What might become of them,
given a little water?

Cosmos after the rain