I remember this flower. It grew in the meadow just outside my front door. I watched it open from a tight bud and watched its bloom catch the first light of morning. Its soft lavender petals caught each summer breeze and released a faint mint scent when I brushed past. It bloomed longer than the other bergamot stalks and kept its color even as the rest of the meadow began to dry and fade. All season it stood there, brightening my morning walks with a brilliant glowing lavender against the mint green meadow.
When the petals finally fell in autumn, this seed head remained: tight, geometric, and resilient through autumn windstorms and hail, as if the plant had folded all its strength into the intricate honeycomb. The warm straw-colored tubes echo the flawless purple petals that came before them. Even dried, the plant seems sure of itself, built with more sturdiness than you’d expect from something so wispy and delicate in bloom. And when the winter winds finally shook the seeds loose, scattering them into the grasses, I felt a quiet hope that the beauty that greeted me each morning this year would return in seasons to come.
Dried wild bergamot (bee balm) #seedhead, its honeycomb chambers already emptied of seed. #Macro #macromonday #BeeBalm #EastCoastKin