WeedImageoftheDay

A Place of Wonder


A Look Back

Weeds From A Dream

In a quiet glade a sleeping girl lay curled beneath a velvet cape. As the sun rose and warmed the air, she stirred.  With a yawn and a stretch, she sat up and rubbed her eyes. She looked around sleepily. “There was a forest here, I am sure of it. There were tall trees with massive trunks, large boulders to climb on, and a stream that ran in this shallow place. I must find them.”

The girl got up and wandered away from her sleeping place. She looked confused and troubled to see that the world she expected to see was so altered. Gone were the tall trees with massive trunks. In their place, reedy willowy weeds grew tall enough to scrape the sky, but their stems were so slight that a push at their base could sent them tilting. There was no stream or babbling brook, and no large boulders to climb and play upon. Her forest had shrunk to a patch of weeds.

The girl turned to go back and gather her things. As she did, the warble of a songbird caught her ear. The bird’s song signaled the start of a fine drizzle that coated all the weeds with mini droplets of water, each one catching on the delicate arms of weed leaves and flowers raised in celebration. The drops collected and a thread like trickle of them gathered to make a tiny sliver of a stream that passed over her toes. She looked down. The tickle of the gentle water made her giggle. It was so pleasant and bashful.

The girl watched as the slender ribbon of water wound down the hill toward a low place lined with pebbles. Tiny rivulets of water settled at this spot and the water grew in size. It became large enough to make suggestions of currents that played with the pebbles, and tilted and rocked them gently, with great delicacy. The girl sighed, no longer troubled by her surroundings. Relaxed now, she realized she might have dreamed the forest. Was that possible?

She was still sleepy and so she found a soft spot and laid down again near this new tiny stream to continue her sleep. She smiled in her sleep as the seeds of discontent that had blinded her to the grandeur in her field of weeds drifted peacefully away.

Please come back tomorrow for a new “Weed Image of the Day” and let me know which ones you like.

We and our weeds are so much more than what we first appear to be.

Unauthorized use, distribution and/or duplication of any of this material without the express written permission from this blog’s author is strictly prohibited.

This entry was published on April 26, 2013 at 8:45 pm. It’s filed under Adventure, Amsinckia, Beauty, Dawn, Dew, Dreams, Fiddleneck, Flower, Imagination, Leaves, Magic, Nature, Photography, Project 365, Sahara Mustard, Sky, Sunlight, Weeds and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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