A poet said: Look to the plants and listen to what they can teach you. When the sun slapped its hot iron down on the land, pressing every inch of moisture from the soil, scorching grass and leaves, I saw knots of green stitched on the yard. Plantain and dandelion spread their ragged skirts on the dry soil, and hugged the thirsty ground. Queen Anne threaded lace across the fabric of the field. Untended and unseen, they bloomed and seeded the earth. Tenacity is the lesson. In times of searing drought and longing, hold fast to what grounds you, hold fast to your own ways of sending beauty into the world. Linda Budan Linda Budan is a retired research nurse who lives on an upland oak savannah wildlife habitat in Oregon's Willamette Valley. When not tending to the needs of the habitat or taking back road walks in the country, she writes micro memoir and poetry, practices art journaling, cooks from her garden, and tries to master a short selection of Piazzolla tangos for piano.