There's something in the way these Dahlias carry me to Autumn each year, like Sunflowers grown from the light of another world's Sun. The way thick stems lift up glowing petals like a star-lantern, peering out to take a bite of the first brisk morning's honey crisp air. What a treat to go into Fall this way, with shorter days lit up by cosmic hues ― a bit of hope against darkness that falls upon a sooner and sooner strike of the clock.
Each morning I've awoken from dreams turned technicolor by the sight of even wilder Dahlia blooms. It's been such a magical surprise, and for some reason that circadian sight of imagination grown true and tall in the garden has drawn me to paint on the blank canvas of September.
The garden is a beacon of many things: of hope, of promise, of inspiration, of messages carried by the blooms painted like little poems across the yard. The start of Dahlia season always makes my heart pitter-patter. What will these flowers bring, how will we connect this year, how can I best tend to them, how can I learn from them?
The Maiden Oracle's Magician is a Dahlia, the Pythia's is the card of Fate, and Ophidia Rosa's VIII of Pentacles. These three pulls are steeped in reveries of a future turn we've not yet seen, while something burns clear and bright in our imagination's gleam.
Fate is all around us, seemingly unmitigated by action or intention. Yet, in truth, all things can be affected by one's awareness of them. For the Dahlia, blooms offer a second sight at, a reminder of, invisible forces. See it to believe it, one might say, then let belief dream of what can be.
These Autumn torches light up the turned ground, the turning of Autumn leaves, and the turn of days ahead, no matter how early the sky turns dark.
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