Spring is springing. Nature unveils its first wildflowers, starting with the ephemerals. These temporary blooms rush to grace the forest floor before the trees' canopy thickens, depriving them of vital sunlight. Among the early risers in lower Westchester County stands the buttercup, (aka. ficaria verna or lesser celandine). These blossoms paint the forest floor in a radiant yellow hue on sunlit days of early spring. For just a few weeks, they claim the spotlight in the woodland.
Like many other plants labeled “invasive”, they were brought here from Europe for their decorative beauty. However, they made themselves a little too comfortable, growing abundantly into the spaces that our native plants and wildflowers would usually call home. They are detested by anyone tending a lawn because they defy conventional herbicides and have a stubborn root system that can only be removed by hand. They are the villains of manicured lawns, but are celebrated in the forest just a stone’s throw away.
I can’t help but see the metaphor to human life in the dance of the buttercups. Like these blooms, our identity can shift depending on our environment and companions. Ever felt like a misfit? Perhaps you're just a wildflower amidst a pristine lawn. Discovering where we truly belong, where we thrive, is akin to finding our own patch of nourishing soil. Perhaps the essence lies in embracing our wildflower nature, irrespective of surroundings or company.
Come join me on a forest walk to experience what it’s like when your wild soul can bloom!
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