Friday, June 9, 2017

June 9, 2017 - Forget-Me-Not!


The tiny forget-me-not with the brilliant yellow or white star at its center makes an appearance now for a few weeks in spring.  They are a precious few weeks that are gone in the blink of an eye, taking the forget-me-nots with them as if they were never there at all.  Then you become so busy with the summer work that you all but forget about them.  Almost.

The tiny forget-me-not, Myosotis arvensis.

Yet every spring in the most unlikely places, you will find the forget-me-not.  She never takes center stage anywhere but instead prefers a small hidden spot on the sidelines or far in the back of the garden.  You could almost miss her if you weren’t paying attention, but there she is, waving on the breeze in the background, saying, “Don’t forget about me!”

The other plants ignore her, but she doesn’t care because she isn’t growing for the other plants.  She’s growing for you.  She moves from spot to spot as the years pass by, rarely ever blooming in the same place again because she doesn’t want you to grow accustomed to her place and then forget about her.  “Do you remember how much we loved each other?” she asks.  And you smile because you do remember.  You remember the little stars.

She doesn’t have the regal stateliness of the rose.  She hasn’t the height of the iris or the brilliant splash of the tulip.  She doesn’t have the crazy abandonment of the daisy or the breathtaking beauty of the rhododendron.  She is small and tiny and powder-blue, and she looks almost as though she might float away on the slightest breeze, like so many dandelion wishes.

Vergissmeinnicht.
Then she fades, and one day you go out to the garden and she’s gone.  Again.  No one asks you anymore if you remember the secret you carry in your heart.  Now the summer work comes on in earnest, and you work and toil from sunup to sundown.  The days are hot and the nights are humid and you are tired of the pace.  Harvest season hasn’t even arrived yet, but you find yourself longing for the deep slumber of winter.

You could stay there forever, you think, in the cold and snow.  Almost.  Until she reminds you again, brilliant and blue and laughing on the wind.

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