My hearts are yours, summer lover, and always will be. I gaze into your sunlight eyes which contain the dreams of my past and future too. I bow my head upon a red painted curb and sigh with contentment and recognition of being in the place that I belong.
My name is yellow woodsorrel and I am happy wherever I grow. I need only sun and soil and water to live; ’tis very little to ask in exchange for the chance to bring beauty to a small corner of the world. My beauty is the small quiet kind that is appreciated by those who look closely at small things and by those who tarry on their walks. The folks with gentle hearts and open minds are the ones who include me in their world.
And though this curb is painted red, there is no stopping my growth or thriving. I shall spread and inspire every day: this summer, and the next, for that is my true place. One thing a weed learns early on is to find one’s true self and hang on to it, for there is great wisdom and strength in the patterns and lessons passed down from a millennium of weed grandparents. I find great yellow weed joy in being myself!
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.
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