Not so long ago I was discussing the garden with my partner. I wanted to go to a garden centre. Something I always want to go to as soon as spring really shows itself. And my partner thought that was a great idea. We went and bought a few nice additions, but not so long later my partner suddenly realised that we now have quite a few things in our garden, only we don't have YELLOW flowers.
Enjoying Coffee Outside
Now this morning we were sitting outside drinking coffee in between busy work and we were talking again about yellow flowers, about nitrogen problems, about monocultures and about the lost buttercups that used to be found in every roadside verge. Unfortunately we never see them here anymore. But ... suddenly the sun fell between the bamboo stems on a small yellow flower, and for a moment ... for a moment we thought we had suddenly found the only buttercup in our province. I was already going back to childhood memories, something with meadows where you ran through with bare feet as a child and started weaving wreaths of daisies and buttercups.
Not A Buttercup
However, the joy was short-lived. When I took a closer look at this yellow visitor ... because I also could not believe that this would suddenly be a buttercup, I was quickly convinced that it was definitely NOT a buttercup. What was it then? Maybe a poppy in disguise or something ... I quickly got my phone and took a picture. Fortunately, these days you have those easy plant determination apps. And while I was lying on the ground to take a picture, my partner watched with a smile. A bit of searching later I was finally able to determine: not a buttercup. Not a childhood memory. Not a buttery-yellow heritage. But ... a wood sorrel flower.
Yellow Wood Sorrel Flower
Well, I had already figured out that it was not a buttercup. That it was a Yellow wood sorrel flower, I would never have thought of that myself. But suddenly I thought back to our discussion earlier, and said to my partner. "Quite surprising, we suddenly appear to have yellow flowers!". Not planned, and not bought, but unexpected ... My partner had to laugh about it but still wants to go to the garden center again soon to buy something with yellow flowers. And honestly ... I get it. Yellow is a very cheerful color in your garden. Of course we do have the Forsythia, one of the first spring bloomers. But apart from that, our garden is more of an ode to green, with some pink here and there, some white and a pinch of blue and purple. But yellow? No, we had never really invited yellow to the flower festival. And yet there suddenly stood, like a lost ray of sunshine between the bamboo, a sweet little yellow flower doing its best. Yes, indeed. A clover-sorrel. Family of the oxalis. Cute, yellow, and suspiciously cheerful.
The best thing about this story, besides my childhood memory of the lost buttercup, which turned out not to be it, is perhaps that this flower, however lost, turned up at exactly the right moment. Just when we thought that yellow had skipped our garden. As if nature wanted to wink at us: “Pay attention.”
Paying Attention To The YELLOW
And yes, then you naturally pay more attention, because at such a moment you suddenly see more yellow than you expected to see. The dandelions, yes, the classics among the wild flowers, A.K.A. Weeds, poked their heads up between the grass, as if they wanted to say: “Hey, we’re still here.” And between the strawberry plants, delicate, white flowers with sunny hearts are currently growing, ready to turn into deliciously juicy fruits in the not so distant future. (And honestly, if there’s one thing that makes me forget about yellow, it’s a delicious strawberry in the making.)
A Little Yellow Ray of Light
There you go. Sometimes you don’t have to think big or look far to be surprised. Sometimes wonder simply grows under your bamboo plant. And sometimes yellow is not something you plant, but something that happens to you. With a wink, a smile — and a little mistake.
Oh yes, not a buttercup. But a good story. And that is perhaps what this garden grows the most from.