Every flower is unique. And yet, some small yellow flowers share a common nickname among botanists: DYCs, Damned Yellow Composites. Those are plants of the Asteraceae family (daisies, asters, and sunflowers), which are common worldwide. They’re usually tenacious weeds, and they may be pretty, but they can be so alike that they’re hard to tell apart.

Sometimes botanists don’t even try. It may not matter to the local ecology exactly which species those flowers belong to. Identifying them as DYCs serves well enough except for the most rigorous scientific purposes.

Every small songbird is also unique but far too many look similar to each other. The ones that are hard to distinguish are sometimes called dickybirds by birdwatchers, and often these birds — especially warblers — have a touch of yellow.

There are more galaxies in the sky than grains of sand on Earth’s beaches, so how many stars will be standard M-class yellow stars like our own Sol? Too many to count.

Flowers, birds, stars: yellow abounds. So does ambition.

Flowers, birds, and suns all strive for more, and our universe undergoes constant change as a result. Birds compete with song. Stars create more complex matter at every generation. Imagine what a weed will be like as eternity gives it time to perfect its art. The bouquets will astound us with their sheer ambition.

Yellow means aspiration and change — changes too small and slow for us to see, yet we can enjoy their success so far: a field of flowers, a morning filled with birdsong, and a sunny day. Yellow unites them with beauty.