Beargrass. Quite possibly my favorite native. Geometric art shaped from delicate individuals; set atop a symmetrical spray of green. A seemingly solitary flower nestled among community.
This year I brought home a tiny, bareroot beargrass plant from a Montana nursery. This at the urging of my boys who insisted on the beauty this would bring to our yard. And this is true. But I also know another truth: Although I generally find the opposite to be true, I am certain, in this instance, that marveling over the intricate beauty of one will never compare to standing among thousands.