Wild Child

Remember when you were a kid and some irritating adult asked what you wanted to be when you grew up? I have a tragic lack of imagination, so my answer was always something rather practical, like veterinarian or forensic psychologist (I wouldn’t consider journalist a very practical choice). But there were always those kids who proudly proclaimed their intent to be a dog or a dinosaur. I’ve come to believe those weirdos had the right idea, so I’m officially changing my answer. When I grow up, I’d like to be a wildflower.

Specifically a purple maypop or passionflower, if I had my druthers. What would you choose? Photo by Kurt Persson

Just before quarantine started, my husband planted a wildflower seed mix in our front yard. For the past couple of months, our little lamppost garden has yielded fiery patches of Indian blanket, soft pink evening primrose, tiny purple bells of vervain, and more. Since I’ve been working at home, watering this wild bunch has been the highlight of each morning. When I discovered fat, fuzzy bumblebees buzzing around our lemon bee balm, I was so excited I immediately called my husband at work to tell him.

Phillip built this little bed in 2016, and we look forward to filling it with an assortment of wildflowers every spring. Photo by Karlie Ybarra

After I’m done watering, I make a cup of coffee and get started with the minutia of my day: answering emails, writing, research, etc. Interspersed within my working hours, I’ll check social media, watch the news, and otherwise engage with reality (albeit in a remote way). Whether I’m making meaning for our readers or analyzing how I feel about world events, my brain is always trying to extract some deeper something, whether I want to or not. And quite frankly, I’m over it.

Wildflowers seek only the necessities: nutrients from the soil, sunshine from the sky, and just enough water to help them grow. They are not only open to but dependent upon other creatures like bees and birds. They put down roots in beautiful places like the Wichita Mountains Wildlife Refuge in Lawton, but they also make camp along noisy highways and in swampy ditches. They only live a short time, but wildflowers provide sustenance, absorb greenhouse gasses, and make the areas in which they grow more inviting during their brief existence.

Neither the Indian blanket nor the bees buzzing around them give a flip that they’ll die soon. Photo by Karlie Ybarra

Now more than ever, we need to think about what should we do—not say or post on social media—to make the world a better place and ultimately what it all means. But doing mental gymnastics day in and day out leaves us all emotionally exhausted, vulnerable, and more likely to hurt one another. Standing still for just a moment, picturing yourself as a stalk of bee balm drifting in the warm summer breeze, not resisting what comes next but embracing every part of the great cycle of being is the reset button many of us need so we can get back to living.

“There is poetry among the wildflowers,” according to author Rachel Irene Stevenson. Sometimes I prefer their decided lack of poetry. Photo by Karlie Ybarra

If you don’t have your own garden to admire, there are plenty of lovely spots for viewing wildflowers in Oklahoma. Three good places to start are:

Written By

Karlie Ybarra

Managing editor Karlie Ybarra loves to explore her home state—and meet many of its animal citizens—any chance she gets.