Chocolate chip cookies (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
THE OTHER MORNING, after I finished baking a batch of oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, I stepped outside into an ideal summer day. The temp hovered around 70 degrees with a sky that transitioned from sunny to cloudy and back. Freshly-laundered sheets and towels hung on my backyard clothesline. All was good in my world.
But it was about to become better. Not because anything extraordinary happened. Rather a decision I made to pick a bouquet of flowers flipped my day into a feel-good, generous day.
I grabbed a clippers from the garage, headed to my messy front yard flowerbeds and started cutting phlox. The purple, pink and white flowers run rampant among equally untamed ferns anchored by hydrangea.
As I clipped and gathered, I breathed in the strong perfume scent of these flowers that some may consider weeds—only if they are unwanted—but which I love. They are, simply put, lovely.
Once I had a sizable clutch of phlox, I started back to the house. And then I saw her, the young woman walking down the sidewalk towards me. In that moment, I decided my fresh floral bouquet would be hers. I asked if she was heading home soon. She was.
I extended the flowers to the 20-something, told her I wanted her to have the bouquet. I advised her that the phlox were delicate, might last a few days. She thanked me, smiled the most beautiful smile and said she would put the flowers in water as soon as she got home.
A kindness rock found in Montgomery, MN. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Our interaction, our conversation, was brief. Yet, it was deeply meaningful. To be able to give something to a stranger, to extend kindness, uplifted me. I hope the young woman felt likewise.
I watched my new acquaintance walk away with her flowers, then went back to clipping phlox. I gathered a bouquet for myself, all the while thinking about the importance of kindness, even small, spur-of-the-moment acts of kindness that can flip a day for the giver as much as the recipient.
TELL ME: Please share your kindness stories. I’d like to hear how you’ve either given or received kindness recently.
PHLOX IN VIBRANT SHADES of purple and pink, interspersed with occasional white blossoms, fill my flowerbeds. They thrive, their fragrance scenting the air that drifts through my office window.
A yellow swallowtail butterfly. Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2021.
Occasionally I spot butterflies flitting among the phlox, random milkweeds, wild orange tiger lilies, ferns and other unidentified plants growing in a tangled mess of wildness. I love watching them—the monarchs and the swallowtails—their wings flapping with such incredible grace. They swoop and dip and pause. As if dancing. As if performing. As if penning poetry.
A mess of flowers grow on a hillside next to woods in our backyard. Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2021.
Moments like this imprint upon me the importance of pausing to appreciate the beauty of nature. The details of a flower petal. The curve of a butterfly wing. The bend of a milkweed pod.
Phlox up close. Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2021.
Now, more than ever, I need this connection to nature, these moments to reset. To see that, even as a pandemic rages, flowers still bloom and butterflies still fly.
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
A bouquet of kindness July 23, 2026
Tags: act of kindness, commentary, Faribault, floral bouquet, flowers, kindness, Minnesota, phlox, stories
THE OTHER MORNING, after I finished baking a batch of oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, I stepped outside into an ideal summer day. The temp hovered around 70 degrees with a sky that transitioned from sunny to cloudy and back. Freshly-laundered sheets and towels hung on my backyard clothesline. All was good in my world.
But it was about to become better. Not because anything extraordinary happened. Rather a decision I made to pick a bouquet of flowers flipped my day into a feel-good, generous day.
I grabbed a clippers from the garage, headed to my messy front yard flowerbeds and started cutting phlox. The purple, pink and white flowers run rampant among equally untamed ferns anchored by hydrangea.
As I clipped and gathered, I breathed in the strong perfume scent of these flowers that some may consider weeds—only if they are unwanted—but which I love. They are, simply put, lovely.
Once I had a sizable clutch of phlox, I started back to the house. And then I saw her, the young woman walking down the sidewalk towards me. In that moment, I decided my fresh floral bouquet would be hers. I asked if she was heading home soon. She was.
I extended the flowers to the 20-something, told her I wanted her to have the bouquet. I advised her that the phlox were delicate, might last a few days. She thanked me, smiled the most beautiful smile and said she would put the flowers in water as soon as she got home.
Our interaction, our conversation, was brief. Yet, it was deeply meaningful. To be able to give something to a stranger, to extend kindness, uplifted me. I hope the young woman felt likewise.
I watched my new acquaintance walk away with her flowers, then went back to clipping phlox. I gathered a bouquet for myself, all the while thinking about the importance of kindness, even small, spur-of-the-moment acts of kindness that can flip a day for the giver as much as the recipient.
TELL ME: Please share your kindness stories. I’d like to hear how you’ve either given or received kindness recently.
© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling