Ebb and flow

Am I writing about dandelions a little too much? They are everywhere now, sprinkled through the mundane-ness of lawns like sudden smiles, like the simple blessings that so often make for a perfect day. Spilling over, unasked for. Like relationships that span fifteen years, stretching and snapping at the seams and rebounding to a grateful security, from dead leaf to blossom to seeds on the wind. Like our families blending, past age and geography and language, simply because once we picked flowers together for our botany projects. Picking up where we left off, peering at ferns and moss together, knowing our eyes are equally open to these littlenesses (like the smell of herbs in warm spring grass) and then swirling into the future as your daughter fills my lap with wildflowers. Blessings, like wildflowers it seems, just wait for us to look for them with innocence, with less expectation and more joyfulness in these simple blues and yellows.