I decided to leave my house today, for a grand total of twenty minutes, enough for me to walk down to my local shop to get some ingredients for dinner. Outside was cool and empty, that first feeling of autumn when the air loses its heaviness and the wind brings a sudden rawness with it. I chose the scenic route, along the path with the dainty houses and pretty gardens, sculptures of goddesses and cherubs lining the paths. The fallen leaves scurried toward me as though greeting an old friend.
I was thinking about New York aster. I had just that morning read about this flower, in Robin Wall Kimmerer’s book, Braiding Sweetgrass. I learnt that it thrived in September, my birth month, and immediately claimed it as a new favourite. I wondered if I would be lucky enough to see it at some point this autumn.
Just as I turned the corner, my eyes were drawn to a constellation of fresh glowing flower heads clustered under a sycamore tree, glowing purple. I rushed over and took a photo, scanning it with my plant identification app (my new favourite toy). And as luck would have it… a New York aster, also known as a Michaelmas daisy, New England aster or Sapphire aster, appeared on my screen. I couldn't believe I’d found it already! The asters grouped together like a protective family, their centres beaming golden yellow and their multitudes of petals a soft, delicate lilac. Once I got home, I opened my laptop and started to search up this September beauty, and learnt of the many enchanting stories this flower held in its elegant form.
Aster comes from the Latin word astrum meaning ‘star’. In Greek mythology, the ‘Starry Maid’, Astraea, on seeing how sparse the stars in the night sky were, cried tears that fell upon the earth in heavenly droplets. From these tears sprouted asters. These celestial flowers held as much grace and poise as the goddess and so she named them after what she loved to look at most, the stars in the night sky.
In Native American culture, a Cherokee myth tells of two sisters who were fleeing from the violence of a pair of warring tribes. In desperation, they sought out the help of a Herb Woman. The woman was able to look into the future and could sadly see no escape for the two sisters if they remained as they were. In wisdom and kindness, she transformed them into two beautiful flowers, and that is how the aster came into being.
The Victorians featured asters in their floriography where they used flowers to communicate hidden messages. Deep purple asters represented knowledge and royalty whilst white symbolised purity and fresh starts.
Robert Frost pays homage to the aster’s gift of beauty in darkening times in his poem, A Late Walk and asters feature frequently in the work of Emily Dickinson.
These flowers came to me, not as ornaments in a bouquet or manicured garden, but as wildflowers, there growing alongside the road, a sycamore tree’s companion, as if by fated chance. The world is slowing down, but before She sleeps, Mother Nature is sure to paint a mural of hidden treasures. Let’s make sure we stay awake for them!
Sapphire Aster,
Gleaming bright,
Beneath the sycamore tree;
From Astraea’s tears,
You grew from the land,
A lone star in the sunset sea;
A lilac delight,
Effulgent in twilight,
As your friends all fall asleep.
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