Beauty is all around me on the path that leads to home. It is unpaved and set deep with ruts that make it near impossible to travel by car. That's why I like it. The chances of running into another person are remote and thus, I have the whole place to myself.
There are no roses that line this weed-infested path; no flowering vines that wind enchantingly around the whispering cottonwoods. Here are the overlooked beauties of the roadside: the noxious thistle, foxtail, field bindweed, common yarrow and many others whose names escape me.
In the bright Kansas sun they could be easily missed. Their presence is ordinary and to most, unwelcome. They invade field and pasture like an uninvited guest who camps haphazardly wherever they feel at home. At first glance they are hardly impressive and plain, at best.
But kneel down and take another look. Intrusive, perhaps. Common, most certainly. But one cannot question their beauty against the cobalt of a bright May sky.
Look again. Life is comprised of much more than just roses. Consider the thistle. It holds a magic - and loveliness - of its own.