I have this opinion and it may be unpopular...
but I don’t think we should pick wildflowers.
There was a summer I worked at a fishing lodge near Flaming Gorge, and every day I’d walk from my cabin to the lodge along this little stream lined with flowers.
There was a lot of yellow false lupine—beautiful, easy to love—
but right along the water was this one single lupine.
Silvery purple.
Kind of glowing.
Just doing its thing.
Not part of a group.
Not trying to stand out.
Just… there.
And for absolutely no good reason, I started checking on it every day.
Which feels very on brand for me.
It just became part of the routine.
Walk down.
Look for the flower.
Keep going.
—
A few weeks go by.
Same walk. Same flower.
And then one day—it’s gone.
—
I stopped longer than I needed to, like maybe I just had the spot wrong.
But no.
It was just gone.
—
I did the whole “well… that’s nature” thing in my head
and tried to be normal about it.
—
Later that day I walk into the lodge, mid-conversation—
and out of the corner of my eye I see it.
That same silvery purple.
—
I fully stop talking and turn my head.
There it is.
Sitting in a glass jar on the desk.
—
Someone had picked it.
—
And I know… people pick flowers all the time.
I’ve picked flowers.
I’m not pretending I’m above it.
—
But something about that one being the only one out there—
just pulled from its one little spot—
I don’t know… it just got me.
—
Wildflowers don’t really last the same once they’re taken out of where they belong.
—
The funny part is…
that one stuck with me.
Long enough that it turned into a whole series of lupine pieces later on.
—
It’s weird what stays with you.
Something small.
Something most people would walk right past.
—
So I guess this is me saying—
maybe just pause a second before picking one.
Look at it where it is.
—
Let it have its day out there.
—
Some things are better left where you found them.
—
And if you’re like me…
you’ll probably take it with you anyway.
Just not in the way you expected.
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