My Birthday Flower

A September birthday seems to arrive at the end of many good things, like summertime and the flowers that thrive in its warmth and sunshine. I still remember the year that the first day of school even fell on my birthday. Brutal for a pre-teen who still has to shop for the teacher-mandated list of college-ruled marble composition books and Number 2 pencils. And getting sweaters as a gift, instead of hula-hoops and bright summer t-shirts was never as much fun.

However, when it comes to flowers, there's one kind that seems to show up every year just in time for my birthday. A co-worker once gave me a bunch of these bright, intriguing flowers for my birthday and ever since I've found them a signature delight when the calendar page turns to September every year. And I kind of think of them as my birthday flower.

I don't even know what they are called, but they had them at the farmer's market last Sunday. I love the fuzzy folds of magenta and red.

They also provided a colorful note in the background for pictures of our cats lounging around in the sunbeams on a lazy Saturday afternoon. Jason pointed out that if our cats were a band, and needed an album cover, this could be it. Look at the languid stare of rock-star discontent coming from Teedie.

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