New York Ironweed

One of the fixtures in the newspaper column I've been writing weekly since February 1978 is a constant searching for harbingers of the upcoming season, and while almost no one wants to admit that autumn is just around the corner, there are many natural signs of the impending transition from summer to fall. I've already found and wrote about two reliable wildflowers—Joe Pye Weed and the first wood asters—that point to the beginning of summer's end, and this one, New York Ironweed, is yet another signpost. Veronica noveboracensis, at more than five feet tall with striking violet blossoms, is impossible to miss in the fields it rises from in mid-to-late August, and the fact that it's often a butterfly magnet makes its presence even more compelling. But though it's undeniably beautiful, it evokes a certain species of melancholy whenever I start noticing it on my treks. Melancholy, and a species of resolve: summer's passing; time to get back to the serious work of getting ready for cooler weather.