A Wild Bunch of Possibilities

on the serendipity of new york and of our lives

I came across this photograph of a woman standing poised in front of a classic New York City bodega, framed by blooms spilling out from white buckets. Vibrant orange marigolds, billowy hydrangeas, delicate baby’s breath, lily’s that haven’t fully bloomed, cheerful yellow mums, soft pink carnations. Four overflowing rows stretched as far as the photo could see, creating a living tapestry of color and texture, wrapping the sidewalk in the kind of spontaneous beauty only New York can offer.

And in that moment, a longing for the city washed over me. For its magic, for its wonder, for its serendipity.

Because to me, these flowers represent what is so fantastic about New York. These tiny miracles, seeds once nestled in the earth, nourished by sun, soil, and water grew into something beautiful and, when ready, were cut from their plants, wrapped in plastic, tossed on a truck, and plopped into buckets of water. And now, there they were, waiting. Waiting for their adventure, their moment of full glory and full admiration, right there on a street corner in Manhattan.

Who will choose them?