According to the Midgardian calendar, today is something called the “Winter Solstice,” the day when this mortal-infested rock does something in relation to its G-type main sequence primary involving synodic rotation and axial tilt and all manner of astronomical foolishness. Long story short, it is now winter, but you couldn’t prove it by the state of the local flora.
The local elms are bright golden-orange, the ashes are yellow, and even some of the oaks are reddish. In short, FALL COLOR. In December. Ridiculous. We recently had snow–real, measurable snow, and it fell on blooming roses. Preposterous!
Listen, you silly plants, and repeat after me. “It is WIN-TER and I am supposed to be asleep.”
Sigyn and I are making our way around the yard, exhorting the plants to get with the program.
Here are some little grassy asters, but they get a free pass. They’re fall bloomers and frequently hunker down and hold over until spring.
This sunflower, however… What is wrong with you?! Your relatives finished blooming and died MONTHS ago!
The whole thing is highly suspicious.
Likewise this thing that has sprouted in the compost heap? I don’t recognize it. Sigyn, do you know what it is?
What?! Beloved, surely you are joking! A potato plant that has come up, all on its own? In December?!
Absurd. It must have come up from some kitchen scraps.
But I suppose that also explains this onion, which has done the same thing.
This is just great. If we can dig up a recipe for compost heap soup, we’ll be in business.