In the garden
In a beautiful garden full of roses and flowers, a small plant sprouted, the roses that lived there did not know what it was growing, they all waited until with a yawn the little plant woke up, but it was not a rose or a flower, it was a common weed that somehow came to that garden.
The whole garden began to murmur and they wondered how that weed had got into their fertile and well-tended land, with a French accent said a Blue rose bush.
"What are we going to do with her, she can't be among us, she's not our kind?"
Said the tulips, "If it doesn't go, it will invade the whole garden".
The imperial rose bush that seemed to run the garden spoke:
"Calm down everyone, when the owner sees the plant he will cut it down and peace will return to the garden."
However, for some reason the owner did not return to his garden for a long time and the weed grew among the roses.
At first, the weed tried to make friends with the roses and other flowers, but no one would return the greeting.
She wanted to live, but she was a weed that could not be there, she knew that and as she could no longer change her destiny, she dedicated herself to enjoying what was left of her life. At night she was visited by fireflies that fascinated her with their light like the stars in the sky, the wind rocked her to sleep and every morning the dawn bathed her with its dew, which she used to wash her leaves, which she then placed clean and fresh in the sun that nourished her.
One day she woke up to a surprise, it had bloomed, its flowers were not elegant like the others that abounded in the garden, but at least they were flowers! and that made her happy, very happy.
The other plants were puzzled, the grass turned out to have flowers and they began to argue amongst themselves.
"What are we going to do now?", some of them asked.
Others said, "It's going to stay forever".
The Imperial Rose spoke up, "Calm down, it has flowers but it doesn't meet the required standards of beauty to stay here, there is nothing to worry about, its beauty is inferior."
The weed interrupted saying: "I know my flowers are different, they may not be pretty, but the bees also land on them like they do on yours.
Suddenly, a shadow covered the sun. The violets laughed and said "The owner is here".
The grass turned around and could see the owner for the first time, fed up with the rose bushes and flowers, it stretched out for the owner to uproot it once and for all.
The owner of the garden was a flower painter, a world-renowned artist who was looking for something to paint, saw the flowers grouped together and came to paint it. The first thing that caught his eye was the grass.
The painter saw its delicate petals, simple and humble, its light tones, looked at every detail of the grass and said: "Who would have thought that a grass would have flowers like these, they are simple but they look so good, I bet you don't even know how beautiful they are".
So the painter did not paint another plant that day, but only dedicated his work to the grass that had won its place in the garden, and the roses never again disturbed it or any other plant, because what seemed insignificant to the roses was for the artist an object of fascination and inspiration.
The drawing is from my own source
