Nature’s Art

A slender petal venturing into the world.

Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better. –Albert Einstein

While we are in the last throes of spring in my part of the country, I cannot help but marvel at nature’s beauty (“God’s handwriting”–Emerson.) As I’ve written already, lush grasses and colorful wildflowers sweep across the countryside from every direction, surrounding me. But today, I want to do more than enjoy that beauty. I want to look deeply into nature as Einstein has advised and hope I will understand everything better, though I doubt it. Afterall, Einstein is Einstein. Perhaps, however, I’ll understand some things better.

I adore almost all wildflowers but am less than pleased when they creep into my yard. They are wonderful in the expanse of land surrounding our yard where they circle live oaks, climb between rocks, and conquer fields and pastures. I often sit on our porch or patio and take in the kaleidoscope of hues.

One of nature’s great gifts around me right now is the effusion of basket flowers along roads, in pastures, and over hills. They can be breathtaking. But that brings me to my rambling point. I am considerably less pleased when wildflowers invade my yard, because my husband (in particular) and I are reticent to remove them. If we do not do so, by mid-July when the plants have finally gone to seed due to our great self-control and vast store of virtue, our yard is ragged with patches of seedpods on yellowing stems of too-tall weeds. In a word, the yard is ugly–and the plants will propagate for another year.

This spring, some basket flowers are squatters in our back yard. This is a bit surprising and rare. You see our conundrum. What do we do?

Well–I decide to take Einstein’s advice and look deeply into nature, so I will understand everything better. Apparently, afterward I will know what to do–and maybe even comprehend some great mysteries of the universe. Well, at least, looking deeply has been fascinating. I have never before looked closely at–much less deeply into–basket flowers. Let me say, they are a marvel of nature. A thing of beauty. A joy forever. As Keats would say.

Below a window outside my house, I find some of the plants with long stems sporting buds at various stages of development. Some buds are tiny, some are small, some are large with the purple bloom visible just below their still enclosed surfaces. Those large ones appear ready to break forth at a moment’s notice. In fact, a single, delicate petal peeks out shyly through a tiny opening in one bud. Another of the plant’s stems showcases a flower in full bloom.

First, I examine each closed bud by looking down on it from above. An intricate, woven pattern emerges from even the tiniest of the group. On the small buds, the weave is tight, every thread visible. As I move to the progressively larger buds, the patterns become larger, and the tight weave broadens. The buds begin to take on more cone-like forms; the weave becomes lacy. Eventually, the bud splits open ever so slowly; slender petals peep out. Once in full bloom, the flower has a white center with purple fringe, reminding me of a tassel on a majorette’s boot. But a basket, sturdy and finely woven, holds the bloom securely, instead of a boot. It reminds of the Bible verse: “I am fearfully and wonderfully made?” Psalm 139.

I witness all the stages in the development of a flower on a single plant. I see science, math, art, craft, poetry, and literature in that close encounter. I certainly do not understand everything, but as Einstein has said, I do understand everything better.