
OH, HOW BEAUTIFUL the flowers that gardeners tend. Petals flash color, painting the landscape in bold and delicate hues. Flowers dip and bend in the wind like silent writers penning poetry. Flowers inspire, bring joy, carry love stories and memories.

Flowers have always been a part of my life. From my paternal grandma’s unruly flowerbeds to my mom’s rows of colorful zinnias in the vegetable garden to my own flowers growing in a chaotic mess, I’ve delighted in blooms.

I especially appreciate the local public flower gardens that grace my community. From Central Park to the Cathedral of Our Merciful Saviour to the Rice County Master Gardeners Teaching Gardens and beyond, there are plenty of flowers and plants in Faribault to fill my spirit with summer joy.


Right now, the lilies are in full bloom. They appear a sturdy lot to me, a lesson in botany with stamens and pistils and all those parts I once learned in a long ago science class. Now I don’t care much about that, just the beauty my eyes take in as I wander among the flowers.

I’m thankful for the volunteers who plant, weed and care for flower gardens created out of a love of gardening and out of a desire to beautify a community. It takes time, effort, commitment, and that does not go unnoticed by me.

Life is full of opportunities to brighten this world. Flowers are one way. I watched the other day from my living room window as a young boy picked a daisy from an errant patch growing in the boulevard by my house. Then his mom plucked one, too, tucking a single stem into the front of her tank top. I didn’t care that they picked the daisies. I could see how happy it made them.

The daisy, such a simple flower, blooming profusely in the grass next to a busy street. Bent by the wind and rain, as if bowing to the earth. The daisy has always been a sunny favorite of mine. Daisies were woven into my bridal bouquet, my bridesmaids’ baskets of flowers and corsages on my wedding day 42 years ago. Flowers hold love stories, memories.


I expect, if pressed, anyone could share a flower story. Stories of love and loss, celebration and sorrow, gratitude and healing. Flowers hold stories as much as they write them. Creativity thrives in their bold and delicate hues, in the way they grow and flourish and fade. In the way they stand or bend in the wind, like silent writers penning poetry.
© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
































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