I once met a flower who took the great risk of unfolding herself in front of me.  I don’t know why she did it. Her cocoon was safe; the color she was once wrapped in hid perfectly among the lush tropical green. Far different were the streaks of orange, yellow, and...

I had never considered chanting a mantra until one picked me. It didn’t just pick me once, but tapped me on the shoulder daily for weeks, then months. I would sing it like a pop song, albeit one I didn’t know all the words to.  This is how I knew we belonged...

I have killed a lot of babies. (Plant babies, to be clear.) It starts like this: Put a seed in the ground and get all excited when it pops its head up. Give it too much or too little water/light/touch/air and find that the next day my little sprout has slumped over in...