I took a stroll in the garden on a dewy morning, looking at all the flowers in bloom. There were Roses of colours and Orchids in bunches and Lilies of different kinds. There were Oleanders and Daisies. Plumbago and Barbertons. Among the Brunfelsia bushes, there were unknown flowers. Beautiful and colorful. Fragrant and lovely. Flowers for the bouquets and flowers for the vases, and to adorn the hair of little girls. In the wind, they danced and in the sun they smiled. The world was lovely because of them. The butterflies fluttered from flower to flower. Bees hovered over their petals with honey in their mouths and pollen on their backs. Among the bushes, the birds were playing. And down came the purple Helicopter flowers spinning in the wind. I bowed down to pick up one and was taken by surprise.
Down in the dewy grass was a whole new world. So real but less seen. Less appreciated. Among the grass blades bloomed thousands of tiny flowers. Wildflowers. Forgotten flowers. But still flowers. No fancy colours. No fragrances known. Nothing eye-catching. But ever so sweet. So subtle and fragile as any Rose or Lily. Bloomed on slender stems they swayed in the wind. When I looked at them, they smiled so shyly and hid their heads under the grass. White and pale green petals around a speck of golden pollen. Some stood alone at the end of a thread-like stem. Some stems bent as tiny flowers crowded the edge. A lonely world, an unseen world, but the butterflies knew. Bees and the dragonflies knew. Just like the Roses, they visited the grass flowers too. They took nectar and exchanged pollen, brought from far away lands. Touched their faces gently as they bid adieu.
I watched speechlessly, thoughts flooding my mind. A simple observation. Something as natural as air and water. Something which existed since Eden, flourishing in the ignorance of the world. Seen but never looked upon. But among those grass flowers was a story. A deep deep story. Among the dewy grass, I read that.
Have you?