Morning Thanks--cone flowers

 

Should you wonder, the answer is yes, we do we have cone flowers.

So, answer me this--what's not to like? Look at this one--there's something almost Barbie-ish about the way her skirt flares. She looks as if she's seen the seasons' indomitable movie and rather enjoys reliving it.

But seriously, what's not to love?

Out back in our yard these days, it's a corn flower carnival. They're everywhere. Okay, they get a lift from the birds, come winter, but what was once a bunch--we probably paid $5 for it--is now a slew, a legion, a mob. They're everywhere. They've taken over. Even weeds cower (some anyway). 

They get their rather pedestrian name from the creation you see here--that stubby cone that forms at the hub of things, a butterfly's delight. I hate to admit it, but cone flowers are rather pedestrian, rather ordinary--I mean if I can engineer a backyard full, anyone can. They're sunflowers really, or second cousins anyway, and they need absolutely no tending because they are fully licensed independent operators. This summer there are hundreds in our backyard acre, and I didn't do a thing to put them there or keep them there. This wet summer at least, they don't need watering, never do. What's not to love?

This one is an adolescent, I think, still trying to figure out who he (or she) is. Maybe right here in our backyard we've got a trans. I'll keep an eye out. 

Meanwhile, they've taken over, and the best is yet to come. This blessed carnival isn't our work--not by a long shot. Come winter, when the color is long gone, our backyard birds do a deep dive into all those cones to get at the seeds, which they digest and--well, you know, thereby creating the cone flower throng we've got now. Next year, the congregation will be even bigger. They'll be an army.

But that's okay. It's August now, and I'm tired of picking weeds--more cone flowers means less Adam's curse. 

I really tried to get a show-stopping shot of this monarch who came to feast yesterday; he was okay with sitting for the camera but reluctant to show off, so I didn't catch her (or him) at full wingspan. 

The plight of these world-travelers is well-known. I was pleased with her stopping yesterday--we don't see them often, despite a harvest of milkweed out back. That our almost embarrassing abundance of cone flowers was of interest--she stayed for ten minutes at least--was a blessing.

All those coneflowers are native, which in a way explains their abundance. They lived here long before we did. They've taken over, reclaimed the ground. 

Soon the dawn will sneak in slowly from its own first light, brightening the inky blackness to my right into a shadowy outline. Soon enough the carnival will start up again, and it'll be a show.

These cone flowers--I hesitate to call them ours--are my morning thanks.