Listen to the Song in the Audio ↑
Read the Story Behind the Song ↓
I struggled with self-esteem expecting the wildflowers to bloom immediately. "What the heck?!" I've shouted, in a tantrum to the muse: "This doesn't feed the honeybees! How will this hard shell do?" This weed of expectation smoothers my confidence so that the seeds I've planted struggle with establishment. Let's pull the impatience that overwhelms my bed to grow the wildflower wisdom of being frost-seeded: It starts with the fall. At first, the summer blossoms begin to shrivel up, losing all their color as their seeds get plump -and hearty! Flirty with the wind, tempting to the birds who eat and carry them. There's nothing seeds love more than the autumn storm: the wind that knocks 'um off the stalk so that they can be reborn into the muddy soil, where they penetrate deep, as early snow-falls freeze and then they melt and seep. The wildflower seeds wiggle their way down; every time the snow melts, they dive deeper underground. And then they rest. What a relief. The Art of Pause, apparently, is part of planting seeds. These Blooms-to-Be cuddle under the snow's blanket, safe from the freeze in the soil insulated. All winter long these seeds just chill as Life allows them the winter time to still. Then the season turns, and the cold begins to wane as the sunshine melts the snow in long and warming days. Wake up wildflowers! It's time to dig deeper. Keep wigglin' on down before spring turns to summer. Before the water trickles out, and the topsoil dries, establish deep taproots for your colors to survive. Still, the wildflower seeds approach it lazily; they're just along for the ride in the cycles of thaw and freeze. Then (finally) the days become long enough for the heat to reach their skin, signaling the time (at last!) for their lives to begin. With the perfect temperature, the seeds begin to suck oxygen and moisture for their bodies to grow plump. Then, in a moment (that remains a mystery), the breakthrough happens oh so suddenly: Crack! Seeds are born into darkness. With no light to reach towards, thank goodness for the gravity that signals the direction for roots to start their journey. Then, after they're anchored, the sprouts know what to do: reach in the opposite direction of what is grounding you. Stretch up and strive through the dark soil until you feel the light touching your tendril. Now, dear wildflower, you have been born- but there's still a journey for your colors to form: the stalk, the leaves and then there's the bud. Every single stage is a vulnerable one. But, dear wildflower, I am happy to say that these are the obstacles for which you've been made: forged through the winter, your roots anchored deep; now you are equipped for the drought, and sun, and breeze. What a reminder for this creator, this little worrywart, who tends to pace and mumble around that time is running short. Don't throw out your seeds, my love, just cuz they're still in husk. Let the dance of thaw and freeze plant you in this love.
Wanna Hear More?
Make Sure You Never Miss a Post
References:
https://naturalcommunities.net/blogs/news/frost-seeding-for-native-seed-applications#
https://soilsmatter.wordpress.com/2017/02/15/why-is-it-good-to-have-the-ground-covered-by-snow/
https://www.discoverwildlife.com/plant-facts/how-do-seeds-know-which-way-is-up
Share this post