One year, I'd had a health scare and days before the trip had had a very large blood transfusion. I was depressed, physically at a low point, and frightened. We took it slow and easy, the Badger going off on his own for some hikes while I napped in the tent. We read and ate well - full holiday fare. On our final full day there, I allowed as how I thought I might like to hike the dunes, rather than a flat trail.
We struggled along in the loose sand for a long time. I was no ball of fire. Finally reaching a ridgeline, we walked along it for a long way, feeling disappointed that our footsteps marred the perfectly windswept sand. "Whoa!" I heard him say. There on the sand, in its own microcosm of tiny dunes and ripples, was the loveliest, tiny lavender flower, so out of step with the surrounding environment it was unbelievable. It was well rooted in the sand, and one wonders where it got moisture to survive. I've always considered it (and the photos) a very special little gift of hope at a time when I was very low.
This little blossom was not florist shop perfect. It was sandy! But I liked it better than perfect blooms. It reminded me that beautiful things can root in a harsh environment and thrive. I needed that reminder at that particular time. I needed that reminder today, too.
Photo credits: J. D. Morehouse
In my ears right now: Bloomsbury Bird and Benson Bird singing loudly in the sunny windowsill.
Something that charmed me: Tag's appreciation of the imagery even though I used very few words.