My blanket flower is dead. The one that bloomed so vigorously all last summer, just weeks after I first planted its young roots, apparently decided it was better to burn out than to fade away. All summer long last year, it made me happy just to look at it, covered in raucous red and gold flowers the very essence of happiness. When its blooms were still boisterous in September, I did feel a hint of unease, wondering if perhaps it was behaving a bit too much like an annual, but I quelled it, believing that it was just so robust, it would only be stronger next (this) year.
Read more at MBT...
Weekend Reading: The Trying to Rally Edition
2 days ago