I spent a beautiful couple of hours entering the hearts and souls of the wildflowers Maria picked for me the other day. It was like walking into a dream to take their pictures, I could smell them and feel a soft breeze.

Something about these flowers gets into my deepest parts; they are not polished or nursed,  cut or displayed, wrapped and seen at wedding tables or proms; they grow in the wild, live in the wild, are eaten in the wild, and disappear into the wild.

They are the other flower world, natural and mostly unseen. They are especially beautiful, seen close.  They are so very real.

It is like entering another world to see them. Come and take a look.  I tossed a William Wordsworth poem here; you can read it along the way. See you in the morning.

 

Inside the Secret World (Poem ahead.)

 

 

 

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud, by William Wordsworth.

“I wandered lonely as a cloud that floats on high o’er vales and hills,

When all at once, I saw a crowd, A host of golden daffodils…

Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze…

Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the Milky Way,

They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw me at a glance…

 

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance…

 

The waves beside them danced, but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay, in such a jocund company.”

— William Wordsworth, I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud.