Oh, how they capture and hold the sun within, these buttery yellow gerbera blooms.
Kin to daisies, marigolds, calendulas, coneflowers, zinnias, and the great towering sunflowers, they drink in light and store it within the frilly tutus of their lavish petals. The capitulums (flower heads) appear to be single entities, but each is a community made up of hundreds of tiny individual blooms, a wee village teeming with life.
Little earthbound suns, gerbera dish out abundance like honey, and other garden flowers behind them are uplifted by their frothy golden magnificence, by their almost imperceptible swaying movement, by the soft, sighing music of their duet with the wind.
Now and then, I falter as all living creatures must from time to time. Out in the great wide world, there is war and hunger, suffering and rapacious self interest. Some days, winds from out west carry the smoke of forest fires eastward, and I am sad about the paucity of light beyond my windows too. How can we be doing this to each other?
Then I remember how my garden loves the light in summer, and I am moved by the thought to do a little blooming of my own within. If I could only take in light and store it as flowers do in their season, send a little light back into the world...
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