She’s A WildFlower

wildflower poem charity sparrow
Maybe you don’t fit in. Maybe you are not meant to…

Can you believe it’s March already? Living here in south Texas, I’m probably not as antsy for spring as some of our precious vintage-loving friends here. Here, we have pretty much two seasons, warm or hot, and especially this year we really didn’t have much of a winter, which was fine by me.

So, knowing springtime is just going to lead us towards the hot Texas summer, I shouldn’t be excited for it as much as I am. But, I am. After moving to Texas, I had depression for a handful of years and I used to dream of being just about anywhere else. I didn’t fit in here, just didn’t belong, and I’d dream of the mountains and clean air of Colorado, or Utah, the greenery and hills of beautiful Tennessee where we’d come from, the friendly people and farmlands of Iowa where I was born, and as always the saguaro cactus, palm trees, and desert beauty of Arizona where I’d lived and loved for so many years.

I’d dream of packing up one day and heading out to any of these, or anywhere really. Have you ever been somewhere where you knew you just didn’t belong? This post has to be for you then, because it started out as a junk gardening post, which I’ll get to. Β But, anyway, I tried to love where I was at, and the people, and it just wasn’t working, I could not find my tribe, I lost my vibe and my voice, and my spark. So, I’d dream, and pray, and cry and put on a brave face and I’d do everything I could to find small joys where I was at. Bloom where you’re planted was what I’d always heard, and I was sowing effort, and tears, and nothing was growing, My vagabond heart just wanted out of this place.
And then I noticed them.

wildflower charity sparrow

There in that place where I didn’t belong, they’d pop up each year without anyone planting them, with their glorious pink, yellow, blue little faces of joy. They’d bloom in the craziest of places, we’d mow and they’d regroup and pop up again to bloom while it was their precious season to shine.

The Texas wildflowers.

For a few precious months they come out to play in the warming Texas sun, set to dancing in the hot Texas wind, and carpeting landscapes in the highways and byways, calling to passerby’s to slow down their frenzied pace and just enjoy their simple beauty and charm even if only for a little while.

And so charming were they with their dancing and their persistent ways that I couldn’t help myself but become beguiled. And I’d look forward to them each year, and even be glad for a bit that I hadn’t chucked it all and ran away. And I’d laid down that heavy depression for a while, because I was tired of carrying it, it was burdensome and this was spring, just like the springs I knew running barefoot as a child and picking dandelions and playing outdoors until the very last moment of sunlight and I had to go inside.

I’d always been a fall-loving girl, hadn’t I? I’d said with certainty for years that my favorite season was autumn with its leaves falling & crisp mornings and back-to-school time air about it. How had I never noticed that, although I’ll always have a fondness for those things of fall, deep down I was a spring-loving girl?

wildflower charity sparrow

Plants, birds, grass, flowers, those I knew were my passions, even as a child. I can remember the smell of lilacs from the huge bushes of them that spilled over the fence of our school yard and I would spend a part of every recess I could, when I wasn’t running around, nearby.

And the stunted young trees in our front yard that I’d coax into growing by talking to them, encouraging them to grow and piling my concoction of “fertilizer” that I’d made from leaves, water, mud and things I’d found in the yard around them. They’re big trees now, standing just as tall and proud like the others on that block, and people drive by them each day not knowing a little girl had loved them and would whisper “grow” and water them and they eventually grew.

A spring-loving girl who loved birds, and butterflies, and playing outside with the neighborhood kids, riding my bike and picking sour apples off a tree at the end our block till the old man would chase us out of his yard. How could I forget this girl..

wildflower facebook cover
facebook cover for wildflowers, for personal use only

10 thoughts on “She’s A WildFlower

  1. Hi Courtney, what a beautiful post. To find one’s tribe or a place that feels like home is wonderful. never forget that little girl…she’s you! we change, but some things remain the same…some of the most beautiful things are tucked inside of us. Love the beauty that surrounds you, sweet friend.

    I love wildflowers, xo

    1. Thank you, Jane, dedicating this post to our beautiful tribe of wildflowers who have found a place where they belong. Thank you for the friendship and beauty that you bring to my life, and to our tribe..xo

  2. Courtney, I was really moved by this wonderfully written blog. My favorite line……”I was sowing effort, and tears, and nothing was growing,”
    How wonderful, that those wildflowers caught your attention, and played a part in your recovery from depression. I also, was always an autumn girl , and then realized that every spring, my mood was lighter, and I had a rekindled love for this beautiful world we live in. Probably after the grey of our Canadian winter, the green and the new growth, contributes to that. πŸ™‚ I finally admitted that Spring was my favorite season followed by fall, summer, then winter.
    Thank you for sharing and bloom, my beautiful friend.

    1. Thank you, sis, and wow, it sounds like we have one more thing in common. My seasons faves are in that order now, too!
      I can imagine that spring would be glorious after the grey of winter (your description reminds me of Utah). I’m thankful that we are blooming together, looking forward to the journey ahead! xo

  3. Many points of this blog post made me really think. Your posts inspire me and remind me to never give up. To find the good in places and people. It is not always easy. I too am trying to adjust to my new surroundings. Thankfully I have found you, thank you for sharing your stories.

    1. Michele, I’m so glad we found each other, too! Your friendship means a lot and it really does make things better. Hopefully your transition will be smoother than mine, though it’s finally gotten better, thankfully! We can help each other through this! xo

  4. I love the honesty in this. It’s hard to fit in and feel like we belong sometimes. Probably why it’s so easy to be drawn to nature. I love that wildflowers helped you. Wildflowers are the best! I also love the creeks- such a peace in them. I’m so glad you wrote this. It is beautiful. πŸ™‚ PS love what you said about Iowa.

    1. Jessica,
      Thank you my sweet friend, you know I’m missing me some Iowa πŸ™‚ I think you’re right about being drawn to nature, and how it can be soothing and healing. I was drawn in by the wildflowers beauty, of course, but also their tenacity and ability to keep popping back up. And sometimes it’s the smallest glimmers of hope and beauty that can keep us going until we are able get back up. xo

  5. Thank you Courtney, I really enjoyed your Wildflower post above. I was born in Nashville, and raised in Texas, but bound and drug off to Washington State as a teenager. I was in shock to move away from my family and friends and everything I knew and loved, to the cold dark Washington Coast. I have always love the sun and summer and spring in Texas. Your post above could have come straight out of my own mouth. I was finally able to move myself back to Dallas, Texas last summer and I have loved every single day here and finally find peace in my heart that went missing so many years ago. I was also told all of the things you were told, that I needed to just adapt and get over it, basically. That never happened. I look forward to seeing more of your blog as well. Thank you for sharing this!!
    Jackie

    1. Thank you so much for sharing your story, Jacqueline, and I know I’ve already told you, but I’m so glad you’re back where you belong and are doing well! I’m glad I stuck it out here in TX long enough to find my joy again, my tribe, and my voice. I hope we stay in touch! xo
      Courtney

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