I cannot look at Bluets (above) without my mind going back to the time of my life when I first became aware of the outdoors. These are the flowers my toddler hands picked for my mother, who put them in a water-filled shot glass – the smallest vase available to hold their tiny stems and blossoms. Seeing a Bluet is far more than a real-time visual experience. It transports me to scenes in my childhood.

Like the Bluet, the Buttercup (above) is reminiscent of my earliest years. How often did I stand in concentration, holding this blossom under the chin of a sibling, studying their soft skin for any reflection of yellow? Their like or dislike for butter was determined by this flower, not their taste buds! If the skin beneath their chin showed a reflection of yellow, they liked butter. If not, they didn’t. Here was simple and unquestioned lore to young children!

The photo above was taken within the past week. The ground around the pond is scattered with these flowers. What is remarkable about them is that they survive lawn cutting day. As the work crew raises dust and dirt, whirling about on hulking mowers upon which they stand or sit, these flowers hug close enough to the ground that they are skimmed over by the whirring mower blades. It is terrifying and awe inspiring to realize that blossoms so delicate can live through such a threat!

There is wonder in many living things in and around the pond. But there is magic in these blossoms.