It’s the season of seed, and grasses and wildflowers at the edge of this forgotten field shine with seedheads that teeter and sway in a sunshiney breeze. Each little seed vibrates with potential, waiting for just the right time to let go, to float away into the wild unknown. They – these little seeds, these light and joyous risk-takers -- will land in places inhospitable, mostly, where growing and thriving is not an option, but a few will touch ground and germinate into beautiful asters and goldenrod, dog fennel and dandelions. Some… some seeds will never let go of the safety of the mother plant, hanging on until rain or snow or simply winter softening of the flower stalk topples it, laying remaining seeds to good earth, maybe extending that patch of family. Much like our own offspring. ~K