Simplicity
August 21st
One sunflower is not enough.
Two is better, and three — even more so.
But the whole bunch growing together is the best.
The simplest of the simple flowers. Long stems, broad and symmetrical leaves, and a big yellow flower with an interior of different shades of brown depending on the ripeness of the seeds. Definition of simplicity and beauty in itself. And the deep symbolism of name and look and their movement as they track the sun across the sky. I feel a little jealous of them, they can look at the sun all the time, and for us — even one long stare would be most likely the last one. And once they are done growing and staring in the sun, they provide us with a ubiquitous snack or oil from their seeds. Pretty and useful and symbolic — that is a rare trifecta, and more appreciation should be coming their way because just mine might not be enough.
There is a reason why oaks were revered and worshiped throughout the centuries until it was decided that naturalistic and pagan religions were no longer needed. I found those three oaks, growing together with intertwined branches, behind a nondescript strip mall in my city next to an old and abandoned evangelical cemetery. Each of those trees has a small plaque on its trunk that said — “nature monument”. And that is an official and legal status given to trees and other natural creations that meet particular demands. In the case of the trees — their age and growth and thickness of the trunk. And those three oaks, which it seems were planted together, are at least 300 years old and their mighty trunks are still standing strong. And the fact that they survived wars and famines and natural and man-made disasters while growing up in the city is nothing short of astonishing. I guess sometimes it works to be slightly hidden behind a nondescript strip mall.
Once temperatures were dropping in the evening yesterday, I went for a walk. I walked along the railroad tracks, where there is a meadow growing on both sides before the forest starts. There are several paths there, and the rest is overgrown waist-high with wild grasses and shrubs and small trees. It is not wise to venture into this grass, as ticks are just waiting for a victim there. And mosquitos are on the guard as well — launching suicide attacks on any warm body in the vicinity. But no matter — even stinging nettles hidden in the grass didn’t stop me. As I was walking there, I collected a bunch of different grasses for home. I only know the name of one of those grasses — the yellow ones on the right are called goldenrod (and surprisingly are a part of a sunflower family). A simple gesture, but those grasses in a vase on the window sill brighten the living room and calm me every time I look at them.
Three simple views — flowers, trees, and grasses. That is the simplicity of my weekend. And I can only wish for more of this unpretentiousness and simplicity for my upcoming days and weekends.
And the same for life in general as well.
