09/22/2026
An arrangement that feels like an ode to summer- dahlias, clematis, veronica, and the last of the seasons warmth. 🌞
And a poem I enjoyed by Caroline Confer—I'll leave it here for you to enjoy if you like, too. 🌸🌿
Death comes for Summer in August.
He finds her in the garden,
barefoot,
with blackberry juice
staining her fingers.
Not yet, she tells him.
The tomatoes still split
their red skins in the heat.
The bees still strain under
the heavy weight of pollen.
Somewhere,
a child is running barefoot
through a sprinkler,
believing faithfully
in an endless summer.
But Summer has always known
that Death would come.
Stay,
she begs the sun.
Just a little longer.
But already
it is lowering itself
behind the trees-
earlier now,
earlier.
Death does not hurry her.
Together,
they watch the maples
set themselves ablaze.
Above them,
the geese cross the purpling sky,
calling to one another
through the dark.
Summer listens.
Where are they going?
she asks.
South,
Death says.
Will they come back?
Eventually.
Will I?
she asks softly.
Yes,
Death says.
Then why must I go?
Death looks at her—
at the blackberry stain
darkening her fingers,
at the last light caught in her hair,
at the fields still warm from the day.
Because you cannot stay
and remain what you are.
You will return,
Death says.
But never as this Summer.
Never this light.
Never these blackberries
heavy on this vine.
Never this child
beneath this August sun.
The world will have
other evenings.
Other fields.
Other children
running barefoot through the water.
But this one-
Death looks toward
the sinking sun.
This one belongs only
to now.
And for the first time,
Summer understands
what the child does not-
that an hour
becomes precious
when you understand
there will never be
this hour again.
So she spends the last of herself recklessly.
Gold on the fields.
Gold warming the floors.
Gold trembling through the trees.
Until the whole world is shining
with the terrible beauty
of something that cannot stay.
Then Death holds out his hand.
Summer looks once more at the child,
still running through the falling water,
still believing the warm days
will go on forever.
She smiles.
Let them believe a little longer,
she says,
and takes his hand.
