This delightful flower is from a brick planter by the sidewalk of a nondescript building north of here. I generally have dinner at the Vets Hall on Mondays. So, once a week I take a different walk. Most of the people there are homeless and/or elderly. I, at least, am not homeless, but the majority of people I know here, and talk to, and have coffee with, are homeless. Most of them don’t like that term, so it’s not one I use very often. But most of them sleep under tarps and lead lives I would find depressing in the extreme. So I ended up having dinner with them on Mondays. It’s interesting to sit at a large table where I know almost everyone. The truth is, most days I see no one I recognize.

I’ve passed this planter many times on my way to dinner, but never once did anything capture my attention. Maybe nothing had bloomed until now. This flower and the lush green it sat above stopped me. Another fifty yards and there’s a drop to the harbor. But in less than half-a-block I turn right to the Vets Hall. I’ve never found anything interesting in this stretch.

As I’ve written before, a great deal of life is just pushing to get through. We push through the bland and the uninteresting to reach those moments that capture us. If I took this flower or a picture of this flower to the Vets Hall they would think it odd or peculiar. There would probably be jokes or odd remarks. I think it goes with the toughness of survival, with making do. One of them finds rocks that are “beautiful,” but walks past flowers and other things of beauty as if they weren’t there. I’m careful not to discuss this, because it might cause upset or an argument. Walking on egg shells is good advice. They see the world through their own limited lives, like most of us. Except that their lives seem more limited. They walk past planters of near perfection and see absolutely nothing.

Perhaps, if you think about it for a moment, you do the same.