Eat your heart out, Vincent

Recently, I shared my love for a field of purple on a popular social network.  This field of purple loosestrife was a gift to my visual senses earlier in August.  Moving on from that day, I'm thankful I took this picture because sometimes my mental pictures get a little fuzzy.  And, an actual photograph helps to keep the memory alive.

But, wait, what could be better than a field of purple?  Quite possibly a field of yellow; yellow sunflowers to be exact.  Colors have multiple meanings, depending on the particular shade of that hue.  Sunflower yellow is cheerful and happy.  The circular faces of these beauties seem to smile and the very bend in their stalks helps to personify their charm.

In any case, a simple drive from point A to point B awarded me with the surprising existence of this field of flowers.  It is a sight I had to make a special trip back to (luckily it is right "around the corner") to show my two boys.  A visual joy such as this is one is something that you want to share; something that you need to know others have had the pleasure of absorbing.

In this close-up, I couldn't help but think of Vincent Van Gogh and his famous painting of sunflowers.  At that moment I really wished for a "Van Gogh Effect" on my camera.  I don't know about you, but I'm seeing this last image painted in the illustrious dashes and swirls that Vincent is famous for.

Dandelion Days

Dandelions.  They are popping up everywhere.  And, I'm conflicted over these pint-sized puffballs.  On one hand, the mere sight of them requires me to make a wish, on the other hand, I'm concerned that scattering these will result in the ominous take over of my lawn.  The bright yellow bouquet that my seven-year old excitedly hands to me, is a reminder of the beauty present in this simple weed. But then there is the sticky "sap" that, as a child, stained many of my light colored shirts, while I struggled  to wash it from my hands.   In the end, though, it is that luminescent white puff perched up above the grasses that finds me feeling sorry for the somewhat underappreciated flower. 

Aside from the fact that the greens make a lovely addition to a salad, I am also dismayed by how difficult it is to uproot these stubborn little plants.  If they are going to come out of the ground roots and all, tools are required.  But, tonight, as I went about the chore of clearing some from my more orderly flower beds, I couldn't help but notice how delicately each little parachuting seed caught the wind.

I find myself simply awed by the sheer design of this wonderous globe.  I mean, look at it!  Although I didn't photograph it's humble yellow beginnings, the transformation from radiant petals to what you see here: a compact white orb dependent on the wind or the puckered lips of children to sustain its very existance, is nothing shy of an ordinary miracle.  And it is the latter, and possibly by my boys alone, that we find this to be one of the most capable of survivors.  In fact, I think Darwin had the persistant dandelion in mind when he penned his notorious evolutionary theory.