New York Asters have a wild yet innocent daintiness, unlike the fancy hybrid
Michaelmas daisy, or the uniform sheet of color on a cultivated hardy mum.
They grow unfettered in my sloping, wet meadow and tumble to the stream below.
If deer nibble, they respond with denser sprays a little later, greeting the first golden-amber
leaves with their twinkling periwinkle eyes.
I am so lucky to have them by the thousands.
Collecting fluffy seed heads in October and chucking them here and there ensures more.
My kind of gardening!
A wild sister of wet area asters self-seeds becomingly, with her baby-tiny pink flowers,
so charming with the last of my foxgloves. Her name remains a mystery,
as does that of the starry white wild flowers underplanting my ‘Ballerina’ rose.
Often, I wish had not learnt the true name of a plant,
for some of my asters are called ‘Swamp Asters’ and it pains me!
Do you have a favorite fall flower?
Until next time, stay shabby!
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