A flock of goldfinches dances among morning-light-basked coreopsis, sunflowers, and coneflowers in our once-sterile and lawned, now wildflower-laden, front yard.
A bright red cardinal flutters amongst a glowing-flowered rose bush, as if thinking the red petals were competition.
I muse at how, years prior, the landlady had demanded: “Cut down these weeds! I just want a well-kept lawn!”
Now, in spring, as new plants arise, she carefully takes lawnmower or weed-wacker, and carves paths that avoid wildflowers.
As summer beckons, her cautious paths let us leisurely stroll through bright pinks, whites, yellows, purples, blues, reds. We become surrounded by and absorbed in Nature.
What made the change? What turned this orderly hostess demanding sterile, well-manicured lawns, to one who could see and rejoice in the colorful riot of wildflowers?
My grandparents, (who she never met), and their parents were known for the flowers and fruits they kept.
The family joke was how the Sheboygan matriarch grew her veggies and flowers in the bathtub. Beauty before cleanliness.
The tradition carried on, as my grandmother taught her children and grandchildren to enjoy and relish nature. “How beautiful!”
Grandmother’s children, too, (oft to the chagrin of neighbors), invited wildflowers and native plants instead of sterile and invasive species to grow and thrive and bring beauty and life.
So now their children and grandchildren leave patches of wild plants, riotous color for the birds, bees, butterflies; pollinators who gladly cavort and dance the way their ancestors did.
As willing witnesses, we get to feel the swelling in our hearts and the welling of our eyes, as we join with them in this ancient dance in the wildflowers.