Marigold. He mistook my name. The flower guy at the farmer's market flattered me. I surprised him, I think, with my ease. I actually felt like a breath of fresh air, and before I breezed on, he handed me a wild red zinnia that I shyly adored.

Origin of flirt

earlier flert, flurt ; from uncertain or unknown; perhaps Old French fleureter, to touch lightly, literally, move from flower to flower; from fleur, flower

The next day I landed in the sweetest house, one I was fantasizing buying. Its entry way was filled with these little buds all laid out on a screen like I'd never seen before. Dried marigold (calendula) is favored in natural health remedies and now by me. I wish I understood these things. Sometimes I wonder if God is just checking our attention. Actually, I think they're signs that he's  paying attention.

It has something to do with noticing. And being noticed. It all seemed so abundant when I went towards this place I already love, someplace I long to go. Like God's saying I'm here. Come here and you'll find me. I'll find you. We'll know each other in this magical land of marigold.

Up in those mountains, surrounded by fields like the Sound of Music, I felt on top of the world: light, peaceful, easy, at home. Somebody actually said to me "you look happy." I recall being told that I look tired, sad, upset...but I can't remember the last time someone looked at my face and said what was true, I was  happy. When I returned home, someone said "you seem at peace." Just beforehand, I remember hearing her negativity and feeling slightly puzzled and detached, relieved it wasn't my modus operandi.

I went to the store where they were sampling this local craft beer made with...marigold. I went to church and saw Lexi wearing a bright green tank and golden yellow cardigan like a human...marigold. 

Synchronicity. Something is right after all. Yes, my name is Marigold.