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August 4, 2017
Delicate little orange flowers lean up against the deck rail outside. They are blown by the wind, seeming to play in the sunlight. I donít know what kind of flowers they are. You tell me they came up by themselves one spring and you have no idea what they are. The butterflies and humming birds like them. You save the seeds every fall and re-plant them. Life is so fragile. The sequence of events which produces these flowers could be interrupted so easily. They would then be wiped out. Iíve never seen them anywhere else. We are their only caretakers.