Chances are, if we had been home, we would have pulled the young shoot, thinking it was a weed, never knowing its true nature, and never enjoying its full-grown beauty.
I find the strong plant, thriving against bad odds and a seemingly inhospitable environment, poignant.
What do you think? Is my inspiration well-founded, or am I projecting too much into a natural phenomenon?
Are we too quick to stifle growth? Do we often ignore potential?
Does this remind you of a time when you overcame a struggle, or defied an environment that told you you were not good enough, not smart enough, not strong enough, not man enough, not woman enough, not worthy, not welcome--but found your beauty in spite of it?
