Bluebonnets and Possibilities

Berry Street  is a busy thoroughfare that runs alongside one edge of the TCU campus in Fort Worth. It is lined with a mix of churches, schools, convenience stores and fast food businesses, many of which cater to the college and high school students that frequent the area.  One such place was a favorite of mine during the years I worked nearby: a local café that specialized in delicious lunches.  In addition to their creative food offerings, this café also served as a quasi art gallery.  The walls were lined with a variety of artistic creations- collage, watercolor, acrylic and oils- that were displayed for sale by local artists. Whomever curated this collection had an off-beat sense of humor.  Not being restricted to more formal venues, the seasonal themes were unique and eye-catching.  One afternoon in late March, I stopped in for quick bite before beginning my long commute home. I was greeted by one such quirky display. Every available space– walls, tabletops, restroom doors–sported paintings or sculptures of that iconic Texas wildflower, the bluebonnet.  There were small pictures, large canvases, metal sculptures, tiny botanical renderings and panoramic photos. Some were quite well done… others not so much. I laughed as I noted the sign that announced that month’s theme:  The Bluebonnic Plague.  I toured the “exhibit” while waiting for my sandwich, laughing as I was immersed in, if not a plague, then a plethora, of bluebonnet-themed art. While I love this flower and eagerly await its appearance as the harbinger  of spring in Texas, it is  true that there can sometimes be an overabundance of bluebonnet-themed art displayed at every turn.  Too many bluebonnets along the roadsides and fields? Not possible.  Too many paintings and photos of said wildflowers?  That certainly was the interpretation in that Berry street café.  Whether or not the sentiment was shared by everyone who stopped in for a bite, the show was clever–and definitely memorable. 

This spring of 2024 is no different from the many that have unfolded from that spring to this one. As surely as there are bluebonnets in Texas, there will be photos and paintings of them. Our land here in central Texas is no exception.  A couple of weeks ago I hiked out of our wooded area and detoured though the small meadow located downhill from our home. While the panoramic view to the east is always spectacular, that day another much closer view inspired. Around my feet were yards and yards of tiny plants that I recognized as nascent bluebonnets.  There were hundred, no thousands, of the little plants, each about 2 inches high. Their distinctive blue-green color, sturdy stems and fringed leaves were sure signs that mature bluebonnets would soon appear.  As I walked among the plants (carefully) I thought about the little seedlings.  Not all of them would reach a full blown state.  Some would wither; some would blossom incompletely. Many would burst into the distinctive blue and white-dotted spikes that generously lend their graceful appearance to that otherwise sparsely vegetated and rocky field.  All around me, there was the possibility of full-out beauty. As my mind visualized the carpet of blue still to come, I paused as I realized that these small teal-colored plants offered  a unique beauty in their own right.

Instead of adding a– dare I say, trite– bluebonnet painting to the thousands that exist, I captured these tiny beauties just the way they were at that moment between germination and flowering. First with photo, then with watercolor brush and colored pencil, the possibility of beauty was unleashed.  Bluebonnet Babies, I call these creations, the watercolor version I share here.   Bluebonnet babies are both the gift of their present beauty and the portent of blue-tinged wonder yet to come.

That eating establishment is long gone now. The word plague- well that calls up painful memories of recent trauma unimagined at that time– but the bluebonnets? They have the last laugh. I speculate that much of the artwork once displayed on Berry Street is buried in an overabundance of bluebonnet depictions, perhaps forgotten in a drawer or storage box.  The bluebonnets themselves remain. They reliably multiply, a natural treasure that emerges each spring as surely as bluebonnet paintings.  Bluebonnets thrive when grown in the wild with little tending.  Once the seed is scattered onto uncultivated soil by a human hand, wind or animal, the seeds are better left alone to germinate or not, to send out roots or shrivel, to flower or not, to multiply or to fade.  Despite this seeming neglect, year after year bluebonnets continue to inhabit the byways of Texas, not a plague, never that,  but a promise that beauty endures.

Beauty is integral to our landscapes, both external and internal. It is the imprint of the Divine that we each carry. There will never be too much beauty. Not possible. That is a good thought to hold onto this Lenten season.  This year, there will surely be more bluebonnet paintings– Indeed I have added my own brushstrokes to the horde. This year, as every year,  bluebonnet babies prepare the way, showing us through stem and leaf that there is always the possibility for beauty.  There is always a flowering just ahead.  Welcome, welcome.

Walk into the fields and consider the wildflowers.  They don’t fuss with their appearance– but have you ever seen color and design quite like it?  Luke 12:27- The Message