TL;DR: Turns out… those dang hippies were onto something.
Flowers are powerful.
Like, chemically and emotionally powerful. They trigger deep-rooted responses in our prehistoric lizard-brains that scream “hope!” and “joy!” and “put down the club, bruh, it’s spring now.”
See, back when we were just a bunch of unwashed cave-people grunting our way through winter, the sudden pop of daffodils pushing through frozen dirt wasn’t just pretty — it was a signal. It meant the brutal cold was ending. It meant food was coming. It meant life was coming back. Our nervous systems remembered. They still do.
Now be honest — can you think of a single time someone got surprise flowers and didn’t smile? Exactly. I’d bet my Dolly Parton vinyl collection on it.
Why? Because flowers flip a switch in the brain. An involuntary, hardwired reaction that says, “You’re safe now. You’re loved. You matter.” And yes, even men — in all their stoic, chest-thumping glory — are not immune to this botanical brain-hack. Suck on that truth jerky for a while.
When I started The May Garden, I was trying to put into words what it all means to me. Why I care. Why it matters. Two/Three quick reasons, so you don’t have to scroll forever:
1. Growing up in Colorado, May 1st was the sacred day my late mama and I could finally plant things after a long, snow-choked winter. It marked the beginning of beauty.
2. May 1st also happens to be my birthday (let’s not make it a big deal, guys). But my mama always called me her flower child — and frankly, she wasn’t wrong. And I will honor her in any way I can.
3. “May”
- It holds no command
- Makes no demand
- Is a quiet offering, and wrapped in possibility.
Now, a heads up: the next part’s heavier. Proceed with care.
I know there’s no magic cure for depression. If there were, I wouldn’t be writing this with both my mother and my husband gone — both of whom should be here helping raise the most heartbreakingly beautiful little girl on this earth (and no, I’m not biased, thanks for asking).
But here’s what I do know: a little joy can go a long way.
Sometimes, it’s enough to pull a dark thought out of someone’s mind like a weed from the soil. And the trick with weeds? You pull them at the root.
You might not get it all on the first try, but the next time it comes back? It’s weaker. Less stubborn. Easier to pull. You’re taking away its power — bit by bit.
And the beauty is you can do that for someone, and I’ve made it the means of my living and life purpose to raise my child and carry on with life despite the circumstances.
One thorn.
One wheelbarrow. One aching… everything…
And so many smiles witnessed at a time.
Now, not everyone’s carrying those weeds. But even if your brain is a pristine, HOA-approved lawn (I applaud you, btw), flowers still serve another purpose.
💕 They say “thank you.” They say “I love you.” They say “I see you.” And let’s be honest — who doesn’t need to hear that?
When you give flowers, you’re not just making someone else happy. Your brain gets the happy chemicals, too. A beautiful little buy-one-get-one for the soul.
So today, go make someone smile. Let flowers, kindness, and the radical act of grace — for others and yourself — do a little work in the world.
✌🏻