In this part of the country, at this time of year, we get wild onions growing as weeds. I never really thought much about them until my husband went to SERE school two years ago. He went in February and early March, which was a pretty crappy time of year to go because nothing edible has sprouted yet at that time. If he had gone a few weeks later, the wild onions would have bloomed and turned into food. But alas.
And now, that's what I think about every time I see a wild onion: my husband's hunger and suffering. And how he would've given anything to eat that weed growing in our front yard.
It's funny how something so insignificant can come to mean so much.