Why should anyone bother growing wildflowers? This is not a rhetorical question, nor is it merely a practical one. It being winter and there being a foot of snow on the ground, introspection is the order of the day. The realization has just come to me that I've not been much inspired to write lately, because I've not been gardening in nearly a year. I can't call last summer's mad efforts in dragging buckets and watering cans about "gardening." No, that was battling for the garden's survival. There is no joy in a battle, no inspiration.
This leads me to question why do we bother to grow small, insignificant wildflowers that dwindle and disappear in the blink of an eye. We can tell ourselves we do it for the wildlife, for the environment, because it's the "right thing" to do. The right thing to do is to stop flying in airplanes and driving cars and using plastic, etc. ad nauseum. Humans are not biologically wired to do the altruistic. We do what we do to survive. So, on that level, it makes sense to grow the wildflowers that allow bees to thrive so they can pollinate crops so we can eat to survive. We try to preserve the environment, to take care of the planet, so we have a place to live that will support our life. Logically, this makes sense.
But this Darwinistic view of survival doesn't work as well for humans as it does for, say, crows. They are smart, they make tools, they adapt to their environment. But they don't make art, they don't need poetry. And that is the point: humans need beauty for the survival of the soul.
Is there another animal that voluntarily ends its life despite having all its physical needs met? Is there one that ever wonders what is the point of surviving? Humans are altruistic, even if the seeds of that altruism were sown in some biological imperative for survival. We are more than our biology, and in that fundamental premise lies the reason for growing wildflowers. They feed our souls.
This post was inspired by the Wildflower Wednesday meme of Gail at Clay and Limestone.