Taming of the Lilies

 Wild flowers were everywhere along the roads and highways.  Even the most inhospitable desert climate allowed a flower or two to bloom against all odds. From California to Ohio, I would see the same types of wild flowers repeat themselves, by pairs or dozens, until another variety would work it's way into nature's seemingly eclectic pattern.

As we headed east and north, I saw old friends; Queen Anne's Lace, Spiderwort, and of course - Wood Lilies.  The lilies came slowly into the mosh mix. Three or four might be against a cattle wire, and I might have to wait for minutes, or hours, to pass another grouping.  Eventually, as we traveled, the weather became cooler, and woods became denser alongside our route.  The chaos of lilies erupted.
Wild things.
They stood in large crowds, angling themselves in every direction, taking heed on neither sun, nor civilization.
They were bold, and riotous, and bright.

As we moved our way further up the map, you could find places where people would have dug up a cluster of the lilies to encircle their mailbox, anchor a garden gnome, or dare to plant an independent circle of them.
They were contained, obedient, and solitary - even in their group.
You could turn away from those lilies, not take notice, or admire their particular spectacle.
They were there - that's all.

When entering New Hampshire, people loosened their grip.
I could see less and less of the constraint of these wildflowers.
They were released, and allowed to grow where they wished -
unencumbered, unrestrained, uninhibited.
Wild things.
Every "house and awhile", you might see a small grouping encouraged back into someone's property - not for submission, but with permission.
Much better - for me at least.
I know we live in the Live Free or Die state.
We kid about that, right?
Maybe we should Be Wild, at least every once in awhile, and Live.