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A is for New England Aster
Purple stars fallen to earth, they bloom around the autumn equinox, shining out from the faded gold of prairie grasses. Delicate-looking, but hardy, their rayed petals surround goldfinch-yellow hearts that glow like small lanterns. They comfort me as I walk up the dirt drive at dusk. Native Americans called them “the flower that brings frost,” as if they were floral shamans, ushering in the dark season. They provide nectar for migrating monarchs that I have seen balanced upon the blooms like chips of stained glass fallen from heaven. The prairie is hushed and still as butterflies sip sweetness, the stars for which asters are named coming out overhead.
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