October 12, 2008

Deep breaths

As we played outside today, I watched how a child picks up the little white round cotton-ball flowers out of the grass. A Dandelion. It's ironic that such an airy, fairy-like cottony sprout would refer to a fierce grounded predator.

I watched how in one breath, an exhale, could disconnect the small seeds, along with its white cotton parachute...In one breath, it lifted up and made it fly up and away. The seeds float off, in search of a place to settle down. It might be under the next tree, but it risks the chance of being caught in an unexpected gust of wind that might blow through at that exact moment, causing the seed to be carried to a place faraway from home. There's no foreseeing where a seed could land. Its destination is completely random for each of the seeds that release from the original dandelion. One thing is determinable: this seedling is looking for a place and not just any place. A place where it will be protected. A place where it will be grounded, where it can put its roots into the earth. What are the chances it will be grounded? What are the chances it will sprout roots and grow? Only time can tell.