I am super proud of this beautiful flower. That’s right – I said beautiful. Never mind that it has folded in on itself, has a bit of browning on a few of the petals, and is a little broken on one side. I know what this flower has been through.
When I planned my flowerbed this summer, I purposely chose plants that fared well in full sun. This one was supposed to be ideal on paper – the more sun the better, and very little water required. But of all the plants I purchased, this one had the roughest go of it. It required much more attention than I’d originally planned. It was so beleaguered during the heat of the summer (bending over in the evening and then stick-straight again the next morning) that I took to calling it Scarlett O’Hara due to its tendency to dramatically faint.
A lot of my other flowers are still blooming – reds, yellows, and purples – but every time I walk out the back door, it’s Scarlett I look for first. She’s been through the fainting spells, blistering heat, rabbits nesting in her roots, someone forgetting to water her on occasion (ahem), and is now thriving in the cold. Despite everything she’s endured, she stands tall, proudly showing the marks she’s earned along the way.
I think I’m partial to Scarlett because she reminds me a lot of myself. More than that, she reminds me of most women I know. Life can be hard, coming at us from all directions. It can make us wilt or faint, trace scars across our hearts, and even leave us permanently altered. If you’ve found yourself among the elements like I have lately, stand tall, even if your petals don’t feel as perfect as they once were. Broken flowers with stories are a thing of immeasurable beauty.