Asters

There are asters growing here in this little patch of wild across the right-of-way from my front door. But I don't believe these are them. I remember thinking they would be asters last year, because their leaves are somewhat purple. I cannot remember what flowers they ultimately grew. The aster family (Asteraceae) is one of the two largest families of plants, its members include the common sunflower (Helianthus annus), many of the loose-leaf lettuces (Lactuca sativa) found in the supermarket produce departments, and artichokes (Cynara Scolymus). I was after New England aster (Aster novae-angliae). I know it grows here in this cluster of green. But it was a challenging summer over here. I removed the leaf litter from the ground, and then it did not rain for weeks. A downpour for hours last week was a good start, but most seeds will wait for a more favorable next season; believing it will come. And it may. This plant will flower in a week or so and I will have an easier time with its identity. In the mean while, I will quietly watch the late summer set in.

Asters are among the newest member of the plant species. The ginkgo trees (Ginkgo biloba) we have planted on the other side of the house are among the oldest. The war is a daily reality for so many neighbors and friends and brothers and daughters and aunts and nephews and cousins and parents. We are all new, in a way. Modern humans, newer than asters. An ecology only a century old. War is embedded in our psyche. Brute force, as Mumford called it. Gunfighter nation, according to Slotkin. Not a pretty combination. The unfolding of actions taken, as some would see it, in my name is horrifying these days. That we would move with such impetuousness across every square mile when every record is written in slow motion is a shameful character trait. We need the variety and plasticity of the Aster family. We need a new paradigm.