THE LITTLE THINGS: A Floral Light in A Dark Place

 

In 2020 the world faced something that most people my age and younger have never faced in their lifetime, a worldwide pandemic caused by the COVID-19 Virus. By March 16th, most businesses in New York were shut down, including my job, and we were in a lockdown, with only essential stores open. As the days and months went by, the infection rate and death toll spiked rapidly. In the US, the one place you did not want to be was New York, ground zero for infections and deaths. By late Spring, we had hundreds of New Yorkers dying and thousands infected daily.  The horror of the daily death reports, and the silence of the normally noisy New York streets, was replaced by an eerie silence, only interrupted by the jarring sounds of ambulances with sirens screaming, racing to and from a nearby hospital, filled my neighborhood with a sense of dread; at least, that's how it felt to me. I will never forget the dark grey I saw and felt throughout; even in the bright sunshine, it was a dreary dark grey. The dark shade of grey that to me, represents doom.

My biggest challenge at the time was overcoming my fear of stepping outside. But with a desperate need for air, vitamin D, and exercise, I had no choice. With much prayer and encouragement from friends, I ventured out as protected as I could with a mask, goggles, and face shield. I started walking everywhere, especially in areas of parks and on streets I had never walked before; it was something new and filled me with curiosity. But something I saw on these streets and parks that I did not expect to impact me as it did, was the flowers. Everywhere there were these little gardens of the most beautiful flowers, some planted in little plots in the middle of a busy highway, some on the sides of the road, some in front of buildings, with the beautiful flowers peeking through the fence, and in the parks. These were not just wildflowers; there was a design, and the plot of dirt was manicured; someone took the time to plant and take care of these flowers. As I discovered more of these little plots of beauty, I realized that I was smiling again; the flowers brought me joy. Sometimes as I stood gazing or photographing them, fellow New Yorkers, in spite of our social distance fears, connected and marveled with me over the beauty of the flowers, and we wondered who planted them. These walks became an almost everyday occurrence, and these moments photographing the flowers were, on some days, my only source of joy. Almost without realizing it, the dark grey that was so present in my life got lighter and lighter until it faded. 

Along the way, I met some of the green-thumbed angel gardeners and thanked them, letting them know how much their flowers meant to me. There was also this little garden in the most unusual place by the side of a busy road where I happened upon what is now my favorite flower and favorite flower photo. I call it the Candlelight Flower, as a light shining in a dark place. Recently I had the unexpected pleasure of saying Thank You to the angel-green-thumbed New Yorker who took it upon himself to transform this overgrown garbage-filled piece of land, plant the seeds and allow God to grow something beautiful, and in so doing, helped to heal my mind and heart and possibly the minds and hearts of many others. His name is Mike.