Notes from the artist:
As a child my sister would run ahead of my dad as he mowed the lawn picking as many violets, daisies, or dandelions as she could. She would stuff her pockets and fill her little hands in a mad dash to save them from the mulching blade. Sometimes it was a traumatic event. She was and still is a dramatic person. She could conjure the kind of tears that spurt out from the edge of the eye ala cartoon character.
Even little flowers that may be considered weeds are precious enough to be held by our hearts(in our pocket) for they are blooming -- a mini miracle in itself therefore, they have earned a place of honor in this pop-up creation.