That autumn, Clara did something she’d never done before. She left the zinnias standing tall through the first frosts, let the goldfinches pick at the seed heads, and watched as the stalks bent low to touch the earth. She wasn’t being lazy anymore. She was being a partner.
“So do zinnias reseed?” Leo asked, notebook in hand. do zinnias reseed
By July, those volunteer zinnias were a riot of unexpected color—magenta, lemon yellow, and a deep burgundy she hadn’t planted in years. They were shorter than the ones she’d started indoors, hardier, more drought-tolerant. They looked like survivors. That autumn, Clara did something she’d never done before