David and I left just one little row of wildflowers standing, and goodness gracious, did they ever reach for the sky! I’ve never seen wildflowers grow so tall!
November has arrived, and while much of this little patch is beginning to dry and fade, splashes of orange, pink, purple, and yellow are holding on.
We wandered out this morning and gathered some of the flowers, hoping to preserve a little piece of this season in some handmade Christmas ornaments or keepsakes. And this weekend, I’ll be collecting seeds to tuck away for next spring before David gives this little patch its final mowing.
There’s still so much life tucked among the stems!
The bumblebees are still busy gathering what they can and butterflies continue to dance among the blooms. The flowers may be fading, but they’ve already made way for what’s to come.
A few blooms to remember this season by, a few seeds to carry into the next.
And another little reminder from the land that endings and beginnings are often one in the same.
There’s something rather poetic about it all, isn’t there?
There comes a time when even the brightest flowers begin to bow their heads.
Their petals fade, their stems grow brittle, and the colors that once filled the field slowly surrender to the season.
But look a little closer.
The bees are still gathering. The butterflies are still dancing. And tucked within those fading blossoms are the seeds of a thousand possibilities.
Not everything that has served its purpose is finished giving.
Some things leave us with memories. Others leave us with the promise of something yet to come.
And sometimes, if we’re paying attention, they leave us with both.
