By Lisa M. Belisle, MD, MPH
Originally published July 23, 2006, Maine Sunday Telegram

“Free flowers. Please help yourself,” the sign calls to all who pass by. Mounted in a delicate white frame, it is propped next to a row of festive bouquets settled in plastic tumblers. Before long, the containers stand empty on the stone wall, relieved of their blooms. It is impossible to resist the sign’s roadside request.

One must be traveling past at just the right moment to take advantage of the colorful blossoms. Their appearance follows no predictable pattern—as if the earth (or more likely, the gardener) has just decided that it is time to share. Once they are set out, they disappear quickly. Often I find them while on my pre-breakfast run. Knowing the fleeting nature of their availability, I will finish my route bearing a cluster of annuals like an Olympic torch. Thrilled by my botanical blessing, I gladly withstand the questioning glances this practice invites.

Although one never knows when the flowers will materialize, they always seem to be there at the perfect time. Walking my daughter to school through the misty haze that veiled so many of our mornings this late spring, we happened upon the seasonal debut of the free flowers. Their presence was made more dramatic by a few startling rays of sun that had infiltrated the drizzle to dance on their leaves. Gathering a spray of tiny buds to share with her teacher, we were humbled. We had felt as if the summer might never emerge, yet here was evidence to the contrary. The universe was saying, “Have faith.”

I am indeed indebted to a universe that lends assurances when we seem to need them most. I am equally beholden to the unseen gardener. Feeling a tad foolish, I’ll often call out “Thank you for the flowers” as I’m walking away with one of her appealing nosegays. Her empty yard offers no response, though occasionally her dogs will bark at me. I can only hope she realizes how much her offerings are appreciated.

Beyond being appreciated as an adornment, the free flowers are an example of how we each have the power to impact others, whether we realize it or not. Maine’s Miss Rumphius (from Barbara Cooney’s children’s book of the same name) believed “you must do something to make the world more beautiful.” Miss Rumphius did so by sowing lupines across the countryside. Our local flower-growing friend does so by sharing her garden’s bounty. Each of us has the same potential. Be it through tilling the soil, singing in a choir or simply offering a hand to hold, we each have the means to brighten the world.

As we work on our own world-brightening behaviors, we can continue to take advantage of the beauty already in our midst. It’s as easy as finding one’s own roadside bouquet. To do so, look for someone jogging down the street, blooming torch in hand. Not far behind will be the sign that says, “Free flowers. Please help yourself.”