There are countless roses to stop and smell. Each day is a new rose garden, every happening a new rose.
Roses have never really been my favorite. Before you catch your breath, let me clarify: I am woman (if you’re around long enough, I will roar), and I DO very much love a good rose from a good man. What I mean to say is that I’ve always been more partial to wildflowers. Wildflowers are exactly that – wild. They can grow and flourish anywhere.
My little dog, Blu, like me, tends to be a lot more like a wildflower than a rose. Blu always anxiously anticipates what’s up the road, just ahead. The Mister and I like to hike on days off or walk the neighborhood in the late afternoon while the sun goes down, and taking Blu along usually proves to be quite the endeavor. She hasn’t exactly learned to “heel,” and to be frank, I’m not sure I have a problem with that. Blu tugs on her leash wanting to see what’s next, smell what’s ahead, arrive at wherever it is we seem to be going…. Unless she’s short-leashed, Blu remains six feet ahead of us at all times.
I have a mile-long bucketlist. It makes me instinctively tug at my leash. Living in California these last two years has widened my horizons, and while I have lived, really lived happily, I’m anxious for what’s next.
Here’s to enjoying the wildflowers wherever they may bloom.