When the trek is long, they are are a small appreciation.
When it’s so much further to go and the discomfort is significant, they are a momentary reprieve where delight is greater than discomfort.
When my eyes are cast down, watching the dirt, rocks, and miles pass beneath my feet, they are a treat, breaking up the monotony of effort.
If given my choice, I’d choose a path that has wildflowers. But what of the times when no such path exists?
I walked and thought on this question, would I enjoy it as much if there were no wildflowers?
And then I passed a cow parsnip plant who had a branch extending over my path, casting a shadow of leaf patterns on the dirt beneath, and I thought “oh how lovely.”
And then I passed a stand of aspens whose leaves flickered in the breeze, and I thought “oh how lovely”.
And then I passed a field of nettle and bluebells, and I thought “oh how lovely.”
It dawned on me then. The wildflowers are the vibrant reminders to stay close to gratitude as I journey on.
But the wildflowers aren’t a necessary ingredient for the journey. What’s inside of me is.