It was always the goldenrod that signaled the impending end of summer when I was a kid. I’d wait and watch for its unremarkable, some might say weedy, foliage, followed by this late golden bloom. Unfairly maligned thanks to its alignment with the ragweed in the air at this time, goldenrod has a bad rap, even if its pollen isn’t the airborne type that ragweed sends up our noses. The showier blooms get all the blame and only some of the glory. We want things to sparkle and shine only as much as we want to bring them low.
Tomorrow is our dark day on the blog, in honor of 9/11, as we’ve done since my blogging began in 2003. It’s a day that feels far away. It is also, well it was also, my Dad’s birthday. It feels fitting to honor some things in silence, and I don’t feel much like writing anyway.
