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.