Happy September! As predicted, I spent my Labor Day weekend working on more fall crafts, but am resisting the urge to share. With just 20 days left of summer, I am woefully behind in drafting my annual zinnias blog post. For almost as many years as I’ve been blogging, I’ve been looking to my favorite flowers like tea leaves, seeking messages or meaning in the ways they do or don’t show up for me. This summer has been no different and I’m ready to stand back and summarize all that my zinnias have taught me.

Stay with it. Despite multiple years with a lackluster yield – and some years when I grew none at all – I never stopped planting my zinnia seeds. Sure, it sucked when my seeds didn’t take root, or when bunnies and chipmunks ate all my tiny plants, or when I chose soil that wasn’t right or didn’t water them enough or any of the umpteen other reasons my garden didn’t grow. But I think I would’ve felt worse if I didn’t try at all, because some years they did grow! And planting zinnias has taught me there’s as much joy to be had in the anticipation of a garden as there is in the garden itself.

Try something new. I planted zinnias in the same corner of my yard for years. Some years they grew, some years they didn’t. With no rhyme or reason to my success, I decided to there was no point in being loyal to that inconsistent corner, so this year I tried a new one. I didn’t spend a lot of time prepping the plot or worrying if it would work. I chose to think of it like an experiment. And voila! The new spot worked, which led to a summer of reflection on the parts of myself I plant in the same places every year, then grouse about there being no blooms. I wonder how or where I might change things up in 2025?

Enjoy them. When zinnias first begin to bloom, it’s always hard (for me) to cut them. Every year I have to relearn the lesson: the more I cut them (to take inside and enjoy), the more blooms will appear. They’re my reminder to use the fancy soaps, spend the birthday money, give my excess away – because happiness isn’t meant to be hoarded. Most things, like zinnias, are meant to be enjoyed now, so I visit my garden daily, with water and scissors.

There’s always light to be found. I mentioned that I didn’t spend a lot of time choosing or preparing the space where I grew my zinnias this year. I had some concerns about sunlight, but opted not to overthink it and instead sit back and see what happened. You can see the flowers leaning a bit in the picture above, reaching for the afternoon sun that the giant mulberry tree in my backyard likes to hog. This summer’s crop of zinnias didn’t let a less than luminous year dissuade them from growing, they simply adjusted their positions in order to get what they need. With four more months left to look for the light in 2024, I will do the same.

So, yes, I’m still excited about fall and look forward to what I’ll learn as the light around me shifts again. But summer has given me a lot to be thankful for, including a lifetime of lessons from these colorful blooms.