If you stop to think about it, each month probably has its own bloom that identifies easily with the sentiment of that season, but none seems a more apt pairing (in this moment anyway) than November and bittersweet.
Can’t pretend much longer that the dead and the dying aren’t gaining ground. I saw the sweetest violet blooms this morning on our walk– not sure what the flower was– and as much as it thrilled me to see it alive and well, I hate the thought of it dying by frost.
Oh, whatever Elizabeth. Get over it. November. Time for husks and shucking old things. Get with the program. Enjoy the spare quality of color and contrast.
And now I bet you’re wondering, does she really talk to herself?
And the answer would be all. the. time.