Defiance

My office building has a small atrium near the center. We're only allowed to look at it through the windows, though that is quite pleasant. I suspect it used to be open for employee use because of the stone paths that cross it.

Still, it has a couple of trees, some bushes, lots of green ground cover, and a few decorative rocks. I have seen flowers in there, but they're not prominent. And though I've never seen a person enter it, it is obviously well maintained... to a point.

Today I observed one dandelion in the atrium. Among the other plants that had been carefully selected for their aesthetic qualities, it stood out like... well, like a weed. It had a single stalk about a foot tall rising from a small cluster of leaves. It had already gone to seed, so the flower had been replaced by a sphere of white fluff. It stood defiantly, appearing proud at its feat, having grown where no dandelion is allowed, like the first human to swim the English Channel, hike across Antarctica, or do any of the many other things that had previously been seen as impossible.

I know it's a weed. I know it's a pest. I won't allow it in my own lawn (when I have one). But for one brief moment, I almost admired that dandelion.