Wrapped in compost and worm castings, I flung the wildflower seeds onto the barren patches beyond my back deck, ever hopeful that maybe something would take. That was two years ago of lobbing hope into the air and praying for a safe landing, as well as wishing for roots, sunshine, moisture, and a spot where something living can not only survive but thrive.
Unexpectedly last week, peeking among scrub oak and clover, Gaillardia pulchella greeted my eyes, sometimes known as the Firewheel, Sundance, or Indian blanketflower. My hope found a place to flourish. Seeing it reminded me that sometimes hope is dormant, but never gone. It was merely biding its time for the best moment to awaken. Although sometimes slow to show its face, when it does? It is glorious.