What’s Up, Buttercup?

I wanted to bring some greenery inside so I gathered up an assortment of glass containers and took a walk outdoors. Being springtime now there were flowers and ferns and a friendly neighbor who insisted I take a bit of a beautiful succulent plant that was growing at his place. After looking carefully through the ones I’d chosen they each went into a vase or jar or bottle according to what pleased my eye. An airy cloud of delicate white blossoms drew me in, reminiscent of a young and beautiful bride, full of love and expectations of a wonderful life ahead.

But it was the chartreusey green one that captured my attention much more than the others. And when I pulled it up it’s roots were like fine art. Like a roadmap of places I might want to visit; like a short-lived summer

storm. Roots not running so deep just yet but they’re spreading out for something big — I can just feel it.

It was just weed after all. Something the weekly gardeners overlooked. And good thing or they would have plucked it up and tossed it aside, never making it to center stage. But I noticed. I chose it for its simple uniqueness and got a small but complex root system in the bargain.

We are all so much more than what is visible on the surface. We end up in various places having been blown there on a breeze, carried on the wings of a dove, or perhaps being intentionally planted in just that particular spot. Overlooked or placed on a pedestal and I suppose it may depend on who walks by and takes notice.

Perhaps it’s a good day to take a walk and a moment to notice those right around us in a new and different light —even noticing our own selves in that new light as well because you, Buttercup, are not just a weed