Wildflowers

Before I left for Romania my friend Patrick asked me if I liked flowers and what my favorite one was. A seemingly easy question to be asked; however, I found this question surprisingly difficult to answer, and in the end I think I ended up giving him a vague answer because I didn’t know. I knew I thought flowers were pretty, but the only ones I had encountered were in the florist section of the grocery store or wildflowers in fields through the windows of my truck. All of which seemed distant in some strange way. The flowers in the store were too perfect; they had been groomed to be cut and arranged into something given as a gift from a loved one or as a manner of saying “I’m sorry”, while the bountiful fields of wildflowers were fenced off in abandoned lands next to the highways criss-crossing their way across the state of Texas. 

For some reason this question and concept stuck with me….what was my favorite flower? Do I even like flowers? Why do I find them appealing? Is it the color, the delicacy, the scent…

As I arrived in Viscri, Romania I was overwhelmed by how green everything is. I couldn’t get enough of the rolling hills and forest surrounding this tiny village in the heart of Transylvania. Weeks passed and the green fields began to fill with millions of wildflowers and dozens of botanists and painters flocked to the area to study the rare flowers and paint them. And yet I still wasn’t so sure what all the fuss was about flowers, so one afternoon I went out into the fields to pick some. I picked tiny, delicate flowers that were white, light pink, and light purple. Their fragrance was sweet and small, but when I sat in a field surrounded by millions of their kind overlooking Visrci I became overwhelmed with the sweet scent floating in the wind and the swaying flowers soaking up the mild sun’s warmth. I did love flowers! As I grew more comfortable in my surrounding and nature I began running off the trails and over hills that enticed me, which allowed me to discover more and more fields of untouched flowers. Throughout the passing weeks I became more involved in events occurring in the Romanian countryside, such as the Transylvanian Bear Marathon and Ultra-marathon, and this allowed me to venture further outside of Viscri and see even more magnificent landscapes. One of the most memorable was a field outside of Mesendorf where the grass was as tall as me; it was buzzing with bees collecting pollen. I just sat there and took in the experience of complete sensory overload. It was exquisite. 

Now June has come to a close and the fields are being mowed one by one for hay, and with each one harvested the flowers are beginning to disappear, so I sit here in one of the untouched fields taking in the fading beauty. I am grateful that I got to witness a season of flowers in Romania watching them change from delicate, pastel flowers to hearty, robust flowers rich in deep colors and fragrance. This opportunity to come and work in Romania has allowed me to figure out how to answer the simply questions that were asked of me a few months ago. “Do you like flowers? Which one is your favorite?” I do indeed love flowers, and I particularly love wildflowers. The flowers that mix in no particular order blending colors that shouldn’t go together in perfect harmony. The flowers that the Gypsies harvest to dry and make tea from. The flowers that only I got to see and twirl around in circles while singing at the top of my lungs. The flowers at the tops of hills where I would run to just because I could. The flowers I did yoga among. The flowers I picked, and the ones I left because they were too beautiful to die. The flowers I would brush against my hands while running so I could bring their scent closer to my nose. The flowers that helped me learn that it is ok to be completely myself again; spreading all the colors of my personality out into the world. That it is alright that some people will not like me, but what is most important is if I love myself. So maybe I aim to be like  a wildflower…