The little wild asters on the side of the road are the last hurrah before the cold sets in. They’re excruciatingly ordinary, and if it were any other time of the warm season, I don’t think we’d give them a second look. But it’s not any other time. It’s the end, and that makes these asters very important. We know that it won’t be long before they go, and when they do, they’ll take the warm weather with them.
|The aster is the last of the wildflowers.|
The goldenrod is dying off behind the asters, and the grasses are starting to turn a bit grayish. Their color is washed out now, and it won’t be long before they disappear, too. Of course, there are still cultivated “mums” everywhere trying to fool us into thinking the festivities will go on, but we are not fooled. We appreciate the color and the gallantry, but it is garish. Nothing lasts forever. A look at the wild things on the roadside will tell you that.
Savor the tiny daisy-like flower of the wild aster as billions of them cover the roadsides now, mimicking snow, a foreshadowing of what’s to come. It won’t be long before the great chill sets in and the world goes to sleep again. Then overnight the asters will nod their brave little heads, and the Lord of Winter will begin to stir in his lair.