Up near the Croakery there’s a sprawling field that is filled with flowers from April through October. You can pull in and park, and wander through the rows with a borrowed pair of scissors and a cheerful yellow bucket. Sniff, snip, wander. The names feel like memories to me. I can remember them coming from the mouths of my father and aunt and grandmother. Amaranth, Cosmos, Clover, Foxglove, Zinnia, Heliotrope. Queen Anne’s Lace, Statice, Cockscomb, Asters, Sedum. Even the stray grass gone to seed and the goldenrod was lovely. Its oddly comforting to know that in this day and age there are places like this. Unattended, completely on the honor system. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but honor is something that is increasingly hard to come by these days. Much like sunny warm afternoons this close to October. And that Saturday was a doozy. Golden light that still had a summer-like warmth to it, combined with a cool breeze and turning leaves that distinctly said late September.
Our little yellow bucket yielded several pretty arrangements which we put in our favorite Weck bottles.
Hope you’re enjoying the little, honest things, too.