Clear and cold after last night’s showers. In the garden, the asters are all pinched shut like collapsed eyes with long, purple lashes.

Cold and quiet. Under a clearing sky, the New York asters in my garden are finally opening—psychedelic yellow eyes with purple lashes.

From just inside the woods, a bird call I don’t recognize—an anxious couple of notes. The purple asters slowly unclench to an overcast sky.