Why My Husband Calls Me Wildflower

This May, my spouse and I will have been together 20 years. Over the years, he’s occasionally called me “Wildflower” — specifically early in our relationship.

I always loved the term of endearment, though I never really asked him why. I imagine it’s because of a song he heard that reminded him of me, or maybe just the spirit it conjured — untamed, resilient, and quietly beautiful.

He isn’t overly affectionate in the traditional sense. His love shows in the things he does: fixing, building, helping — little acts that speak louder than words. If I asked him today why he calls me that, he’d probably joke:

“Because you’re a weed, and I couldn’t get rid of you.”

I’d like to think there’s truth in both versions — a little wildness, a little stubbornness, a little enduring beauty.

I’m not entirely sure why I decided to start this blog. Maybe it’s the stage of motherhood where you question your purpose, or the urge to make your mark on the world, or perhaps the simple hope that a friend — someone out there — will hear me.

Whatever the reason, I’m glad you’re here. Welcome to Wildflower & Iron. I’m so happy you’ve come to introduce yourself.