There is no red as red for me as that of the poppy amid the green. There is no blue as blue for me as that of the cornflower dancing free. I cannot be in love with any yellow as much as the golden daisy or dandelion petal. These wildflowers are the palette of my dreams, the palette of my world - the real and the fantasy.
Is there any mosaic so bold as that of the wildflower meadow? All that order and chaos together making a picture as beautiful as any Monet masterpiece. The order of the genes, the clockwork perfection of the molecules, all married to the random whimsical nature of the wind, birds and bees.
Each wildflower is its own frisson of joy told in petals, petals that are born to parade in every breeze until they are ready to become divine confetti.
Every wildflower is God's poetic dream to the Earth, told in DNA, build of Mendeleev's matter, colours square dancing to Mendel's gene punnett , yet they reach into the soul all the same with a story as old as time.
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