There’s a mangy bed of flowers along the dilapidated fence in our front yard. We only moved in this spring so had no idea what would pop up–given the general state of things, I had presumed weeds, but have been proven wrong repeatedly, and most recently by these.
I have no idea what they are (please comment if you do), but they simply delight me. Each flower looks like a firework, right before the ends begin to fall in the sky.
This weekend, Tim, I, my siblings, his brother, and thirtyish other people are off to the woods of New York State to live simply… with twenty-plus pound packs and all sorts of modern gear. I’m sure some stories will result.