In a Wildflower

To see a world in a grain of sand
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand
And eternity in an hour.
(William Blake)

These first four lines are likely the most recognized of William Blake’s much longer rhyming treatise on nature’s lessons and need for protection alongside human nature’s frailties and inescapable tethering to creation. It’s from the poem, “Auguries of Innocence.”  To me, it has always been the colossal urging to pay attention to the details. It’s so easy to miss the longevity of a single moment.

Little Drummer Boy and Bug have taken to bringing me “prizes” in the form of wildflowers (and sometimes grass, sticks or the occasional lizard) found around our lawn. They are quickly coming to realize that mommies always love flowers. This knowledge has something to do with the squeals I offer them in return every time.

They each presented half of this bunch to me last week and were eager to see the blossoms find a home in my “flower glass.” They seemed satisfied with this spice jar repurposed to showcase their treasure. And a treasure it is. It’s been way too long since I’ve buried my face in a mound of clover blossoms to enjoy their sweet and tender fragrance — it is summertime’s rite of passage in Mississippi. Last Wednesday, I was all too eager to poke my nose into the center of this bouquet at the insistence of the boys. “It smells!” they said with renewed discovery. It was a discovery for me as well. I had almost forgotten that these ever-present reminders of the grass’ need for mowing actually have a scent. How often I miss the sacred place found in something simple like a collection of white tiny-petaled “weeds.” How often I breeze past the pursuit of these treasures by pudgy, dirt-stained fingers just to get inside the door at the end of the day. How often I fail to embrace and really soak up the infinity of that moment as these prizes move from their sweaty palms to mine.

Yes, I’d like to get back in touch with that little girl who didn’t mind burying her head in a field of clover. In the mean time, although it wasn’t quite the same as lying facedown in the field of green shapes, to bury my head in each of their little bodies in a thank you embrace was most definitely heaven.