The last of my flowers for the year. The yard's done well. Fall is my favorite time of year, but it comes with a bit of inherent sadness, a bit of fading. Still, life remains. Here are the last of this year's flowers and one lingering bee preparing for winter as the light dims toward midwinter.

This rose was supposed to be white. I planted it when thinking of the suffragettes, but it died and the grafted root stock came in red. Still, it's hearty and I let it bee (see what I did there?)