Even though I cannot choose colors or sizes of blossoms at this time of year for the perfect asymmetrical bouquet, they do give me pleasure in their simple country style as I clump them together. It is a more comfortable style...like winter slippers.
Later in the same afternoon I peruse my summer annuals outside, and even though they are retreating from the weather, I think they still have a certain beauty about them. These zinnias look a little like impressionistic paintings done by the artist who saw the perfect flowers earlier in the month and then attended a carnival that evening. Upon waking he grabbed his bright paints and did these.
As I venture further into the more open fields where the weather is harsher I find that even the end of the wild flower has its perfect moment before snow brings her down. (I do not know what these are/or were.)
Each season certainly has its own reward.