Three different times on Thursday I passed a garden area adjacent to the school at which I’m working. This garden featured the most gorgeous purple flowers. If I knew anything at all about plants I’m sure I’d be able to tell you their names, but I don’t, and I can’t.
Each time I walked by I thought to myself, “Those gorgeous flowers for which I have no name would make a perfect snapshot of the day on my blog,” but twice I didn’t have my camera with me and once my arms were loaded with testing materials.
Finally at the end of the day I found an opportunity to slip outside to take a photo of these breathtakingly beautiful plants. Alas, I was too late. Each of the blossoms lay wilted on the ground.
Now I have no idea what happened. Perhaps some group of ornery elementary students couldn’t help themselves and dashed the flowers to the ground. Maybe aliens were responsible for their demise, shooting death rays from the depths of space thinking to annihilate life on earth, but succeeding only in killing certain flowers. In that case we dodged a bullet, wouldn’t you agree?
But maybe it was just that time in the flowers’ lives. They’d reached the pinnacle of their collective existence and then simultaneously expired depriving me of a lovely photograph and the world of their fragrant beauty.
You know there’s a moral to this story, right? Stop and snap a photo of the unknown purple flowers. Gosh, that might just catch on.