There are wildflowers and there are wild flowers. “Wildflowers” is really a misnomer. Wildflowers can be pampered and cultivated on, say, an urban street in the very heart of a big city like Phoenix. Or they can grow in the wild.
The pampered variety, or not so wild flowers, are often quite showy and dense, so thick you can wade into a field and, if not watchful of your step, they can send you sprawling.
I prefer the truly wild ones. The ones that emerge on their own, without man-delivered water, on a hillside or on a trail so barren as nothing else will grow except a cactus, a creosote bush or a palo verde tree. The wild flowers are not so showy, do not always cluster but they stand proud and independent.
I like them because they represent strength, resilience and fearlessness.