Bloom Where You're Planted

This is a cucumber plant in our yard. I did not put it there. I planted cucumbers about 75 feet away in a carefully tended garden. But this rogue cuke somehow grounded itself in the rocks, near the children's swing set and assorted pairs of stomping feet. Stubborn thing.

In that carefully tended garden, I have melons. I did not plant these melons. Earlier in the summer Roger served a breakfast of honeydew with prosciutto and lime juice, and then mulched the waste. I suppose the seeds took root. Stubborn things.

In the front yard, hanging over the driveway, there is a sunflower (? botanists, please confirm?). I did not plant it. There are no similar flowers near it. It is so florally prolific that it droops in the path of Roger's car as he heads into and out of the garage. It's taken quite a beating, but still keeps producing flowers that reach for the light. Stubborn thing.

I honor the hearty biology of these organisms, that they strive to grow where they are. I admire their thirst for sunlight, their ongoing quest for growth, no matter what sense there is in their surroundings.


I dedicate this post to Tessa and Reed, the hearty, stubborn rogues that landed in my garden. Grow with me here!