The Most Beautiful Flower In The World
I am currently sporting a bias, both to left and to right. However, it’s nothing to do with politics. As I walk or run, I scan the verges to one side or the other. I think it is a maternal hangover. My pagan ancestor Zuri was a forager in 2200 BC. I would have joined her team and not the savage, hunting men. I seem to see the variation in colour and form. Once I spot a particular plant, I always see it. Greens vary, as do yellows and golds. Whilst on my feet it works well but not on a bike. On the Monsal Trail, I called over to Ann on her bike, “some nice wildflowers…!” The sentence was truncated as my bike slid off the track. After that, blood everywhere, embarrassment in front of young people. The most beautiful flower in the world was nowhere to be seen.
We ran up a stone and boulder strewn path above Castleton, in the Peak District. The track began in trees and then opened out, the walled fields scoured by a fresh wind. My head had a left bias, then a right. Suddenly, in front of my eyes was the most beautiful flower in the world. I was astounded! Ann pulled up, wondering why I confronted the verge. A bee orchid, a plant neither of us had ever seen and doubted we ever would. It was a single plant, no others were present. That said, lots of other orchids were on display. Consequently, I was in orchid mode.
The most beautiful flower in the world
However, we needed to finish our run because the camera was back in our vehicle. We returned to capture a lasting image. Now, days later, I still feel elated. In part, this relates to a world fixated on travel as an antidote to the pandemic. Why! What could Spain or the West Indies offer to overwhelm my gorgeous flower? Whatever, I apologise, my dear reader. I am guilty of proselytizing and used to fly pre-pandemic so who am I to tell anyone what to do. Consequently, I will just hunker down in my little bubble, run whilst I can and stare at verges. Jewels lie just beneath our feet on this wondrous island!