If summer was a book it would be ombre in color. It would start with the brightest of yellows and deepest of reds as tulips pushed through the earth, trumpeting the first call of spring. Peonies, of course, would follow with their pale and watercolor pink petals, dripping off their bountiful bosoms. With a myriad of color and drama as each flower would phase into the next throughout the course of summer. It would then end with the daring brightness of yellow from the giantess sunflowers. And finally, the vividness of the bright and showy zinnia would show summer out. Gently, beautifully, and graciously.

Harvesting the last colors of summer is an exhausting and yet therapeutic tradition. It is my sense of closure and it’s how I accept the transition of life and relinquish my false sense of control over the changing seasons. I have to touch, taste, and feel every drop of summer as she releases her colorful clutches into fall’s quaky grasp. The line between summer and fall blurs as I dutifully scavenge, preserve, and press every tiny flower, leaf, and cluster of nature’s perfect art.

I hasten through the countryside, collecting, snipping, and dropping every precious piece of organic wonder into an old grocery sack. I arrive home and plop every single leaf and petal onto my wooden table and proceed to bunch, bundle, and press every single piece.

I press the zinnia’s petals but hang dry the insides where the seeds lay because the yellow flecks of leftover pollen are vivid and they catch my eye.

These black eyes susans have long since lost their petals but the black pokey buttons make beautiful gift accents when spray painted gold and dried.

Finally I scrape the last of the petals, seeds, rabbit brush, and my beloved acorn caps into a big pile. They look so beautiful that I’m half tempted to sprinkle them into lovely cellophane bags and pass them out as Christmas gifts and label them as nature’s confetti…. But for now I will admire them while they sit in my glass canning jars and I revel in their rustic beauty as a reminder that change is always a beautiful thing.