Late Blooming

I don't think I would consider myself a late bloomer, although there were some virtues that took me a while to master.  Courage, confidence, stepping out of my comfort zone.  In fact, you could say that I am still working on those things.

But that's a metaphorical application of the term late bloomer.  Today I am in love with literal late bloomers:

These pictures were all taken this afternoon in my yard.  It's November 9th, and flowers are still blooming!  What a gift!

Now, I will grant you that for that one blossoming black-eyed Susan, there are about 400 dead ones.  The same can be said for the foxglove.  But consider for a moment the importance of time of blooming.  Who gets noticed?  The first and the last!  And in this case, last does not equate to loser.



I know that one killing frost will eliminate these late blossoms from the landscape.  But today, when I had to again turn up the heat in the house, I was able to walk out in the afternoon sun and be reminded of summer's fleeting beauty.  More than that, these flowers -- pistil, stamen, sepal, and petal -- are full of promise.  In mid-November, they remind me that they will return in six months or so, more populous and glorious than they ever were.

And when they're dead and gone, there will still be reminders.  I could not resist snapping a picture of my ornamental grass, a beauty that will adorn my garden in autumn and winter before I cut it down in the spring and allow it to re-emerge in a glorious shade of summer green.  Garden love is deep and enduring.