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My favorite harbingers of change this season are in now bloom: Joe Pye weed, goldenrod and ironweed. I consider these plants the brassy, colorful dance-hall girls of late summer.
The days are growing shorter, and on my evening walks, I notice very few fireflies. I feel a sense of loneliness each year as I imagine one last firefly, blinking all by his lonesome, and never getting an answer. But that's what this season is about — transitioning from the fullness of summer to the starkness, eventually, of winter.