The morning mist was descending. A light drizzle fell on the earth that was thirsting for water after the summer drought. Hundreds of wild geese approached her against the dull gray clouds. Right over her head they flew. What an awesome sight they were, that big plow formation. She sighed. It was autumn.
Two days ago she had done some gardening. One little plant would not grow and have flowers, even if it was time. It was an autumn flower. I am going to dig it up and throw it away, she had thought. What good will a plant do in my front garden if it doesn't bloom?
She had taken it to the back yard, to the little wild meadow. There she had dug a hole in the barren ground and thrown in the plant. I wont bother to water it. It's going to die for sure. And she had left it to fend for itself.
She had forgotten all about the plant that day when she saw the geese. Standing on top of the hill, she suddenly felt an urge to look at the little meadow below. It had been full of wildflowers all summer. Pretty, modest, wild flowers, yellow and purple and white. Now all that was left of them were their stems, and they were turning black.
But what on earth was that? A little yellow flower, shining like the sun itself, had burst out. Its little face seemed to glow with happiness. It took her a while to realize it was the same one she had thrown away. Now this flower lit up not only her back yard, but her soul as well.
She hurried down the hill. With her bare hands she dug in the hard ground and gathered better soil to tuck in its roots. This garden flower had found its home at last among the wildflowers.
And so, every autumn when all the other flowers were gone, this little yellow sun would shine. And every year more little suns would emerge from the happy plant. All this happened because she had given the flower a second chance in a place where it could really feel at home.