Seagulls were lined up on the peer, taking in the afternoon breeze and the heavy light of the sun – which was too close to the ground at that time of the day. We walked, squinting, and our hands moved in quick gestures, spreading the words that flowed from our mouths and dissipating the indignation we felt at people’s inability to learn from their mistakes. I wish we could have stayed on the wooden bench by the side of the lake and sorted out all the world’s problems, starting with our own. I think, given enough time, we could.

I didn’t look across the waves, didn’t glance at the familiar cityscape before us, or cared to notice anyone else around,  because the moment absorbed me completely. But then, a flash of creativity, the possibility of something-from-seemingly-nothing distracted me, and I become like a hound chasing the proverbial squirrel: totally zoomed-in to the new object of my attention. That’s how I ended up bent closely to the ground, mid conversation, maybe even mid-word, to examine and eventually pull a bunch of yellow flowers  covered in seagull feathers, tame them with my teeth, when the hands failed, and start to assemble them into a happy bunch of awesomeness. To anyone else they’d be unwanted weeds but to me it was like we came across a great thing of value. One that naturally justified my fascination and change of focus. A bouquet started to take shape as we moved from one weed patch to the next, talking now, about wedding flowers and how bright yellow just doesn’t go with the rest of the theme.

The burning reason for our walk was left somewhere by the wooden bench, discarded due to more important matters, like picking the perfect combination of off-white wild flowers. I found a water glass in the kitchen and it became a vase. The pot of a plant, with dirt still in it, became the second vase. As my eyes scan the unique beauty of each of these “flowers” growing wild anywhere they can, I am filled with awe and the satiating joy that comes from connecting to the beauty and stillness all around us. If a painter captured them on canvas and we saw their perfection through the artist’s eyes we’d be more likely to discover them for ourselves.

I’m also reminded, with a smile, that for all the protest I received, someone else not only saw their beauty but she chose them as potential options for her wedding. Along with the million and one other options she’ll have a hard time deciding on.