Cycles

This flower, the cosmos (Cosmos bipinnatus) is native to Texas and the southern United States, but has begun to flourish here in the north these past few decades. They are a stunning display, growing like wiry weeds, carrot fluff, skyward for months. Two inches, four, a foot, two, four, then in August, like a slow motion fireworks display, the blooms started popping out. Lavender and pink and colors in between. The seeds were a gift from a friend and colleague, who had picked them the year before from her pollinated buds. This year we carefully gathered the seed to pass along to a new circle of friends. This flower likes hot sun for as much of the day as it can receive it. It doesn't need water, but, like any reasonable plant, it will take advantage of having water. This one got pampered through our past summer's drought. Another cluster of cosmos a few blocks away got no water at all and seems to have flowered as vigorously. The Texas landscape, it would appear, makes tenacity a virtue.

A hurricane bears down on the central Gulf of Mexico where warm waters promise to spin it into a dangerous frenzy. Killings persist in Iraq. Refugees are becoming refugees again. Permanent transportees. The overwhelming evidence is drowning out the success of their pep rally politics. Americans are willing to believe the myth and embrace its special brand of narcissism, but only to a point. Too many have died at the hands of this foolishness. Nothing was what they said it was, and everything has turned sour in the ways more reasonable men have predicted for years now. The facts are a nagging bunch of hecklers, like the cosmos in August, they have suddenly bloomed in a wave of bright colors attracting the eye.