the final aster

November can be a month of firsts: the premier snow flakes, the debut of pond ice, and the initial silvering of meadow grasses and fallen leaves, to name several newbies. But through my eyes, it is more often the month of lasts: the final flying dragonflies, the end of leaf color, the demise of the singing crickets and katydids, to cite some examples. I've highlighted all of these, both in writing and in photography, and I'm sure there'll be other first-last chronicles in this space during the month. This is an image of the omega case, the last wild aster in bloom. It's a little bedraggled, a victim of this morning's killing frost that dropped the temperature to 23 degrees F. before the turnaround, and I don't think it'll find resurrection in the afternoon sun. Well, blossom resurrection. The flower already carries everything it will need to come back to life next spring. The aster has made seeds, and these will, after a respite, renew the cycle.