Most mornings — coffee in hand, hair doing its own thing, still in my PJs and half-dreaming — I wander through my garden like it’s a tiny kingdom that runs on mystery and magic. It’s my favorite ritual: checking on what bloomed, what wilted, and what seems to be plotting something behind the hydrangea shrub.
Today, the poppies caught my eye — as they often do — standing tall and bright like tiny dancers mid-performance. Reds, oranges, golden yellows… all fluttering in the breeze as if to say, “Look at us, we’ve arrived!”
Amid all the usual poppy fanfare — the bold reds, sunny yellows, fiery oranges doing their full Broadway number — there was a white bloom. Just one. Not loud. Not flashy. But impossible to ignore. A quiet standout in the technicolor crowd. Soft, delicate, and entirely unexpected. While the others were busy competing in a vibrant chorus, this one whispered instead. And somehow, that whisper held all the power.
It reminded me why I love these morning walks. Not for the grand reveals or the perfect blooms, but for the surprises that feel like the garden is gently tapping me on the shoulder saying, “Here. Look closer.” It’s a reminder that sometimes the quietest things hold the most wonder. And that not everything needs to be center stage to steal the show.
Glimmers, friends. They’re everywhere — even tucked between the poppies.
So here’s to the white poppy — the gentle rebel, the quiet guest, the beauty that blooms when no one’s expecting it.
– The Wallflower
Glimmers of The Wallflower 
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