I like to think it started with my resident cardinal flicking a seed from the winter bird-feeder. Fortunately, the seed found a place to germinate in a corner of my patio flower bed.
I discover it during Spring cleanup. I'm thinking, "Is it a weed?" But then, it doesn't look like one. So instead of pulling it out, I decided to let it grow.
Wondering.
There's no doubt that my cardinal planted a sunflower. Its tall stalk supports a large central flower head reaching for the sun. Bright yellow pedals encircle a core of new seeds.
I'm thinking, "How can I protect it?" Frequently, Spring winds and storms howl through my patio. The sunflower could be damaged. So, I go looking for stakes to support it. I settle on one that's about 6 feet tall.
I joke with friends, "It's a Jack-in-the-beanstalk happening."
Golden moments
But then, a squirrel comes. The large golden flower is too much of a temptation. The squirrel climbs the stalk and has a hearty meal. The flower is gone. Only scraps remain scattered on the patio below.
Disheartening.
Days turn into weeks. The beheaded sunflower is no longer growing. The stalk broke off under the weight of the squirrel. The leaves still spiral upwards but there is nothing to frame and show-off.
So sad.
But then, I notice small buds. They are forming between the remaining stalk and the spiraling leaves. Soon yellow flowers appear. A friend comes by and together we count more than a dozen new flowers where there had only been one.
Amazing.
The theologian in me is pondering. Out of serendipity emerges wonder. When destroyed, it re-emerges in a dozen new ways. I think, "What else can be understood this way?" Metaphors for living drift into consciousness.
