I picked the last of the late summer blooms just before the first frost. Plump-cheeked dahlias and frilly, lace-cap hydrangeas. The late afternoon sun shone through them, amber and rose.

The fennel flowers have lost their yellow brightness and droop dramatically next to sprigs of lavender that retain their calm composure. I try to catch their scent as I listen to the silence whispering its way under a deep, deep ocean.

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