Milkweed Reverie

I have been watching Golden Milkweed this season. A new infatuation with gold-colored blooms led me to gasp with joy at the nursery when I came upon two of these milkweeds. I emptied my coinpurse and made them mine. I’ve never had much luck growing milkweeds, but these have kept me happy and rapt all summer and fall. Golden milkweed attracted gold aphids; how come nobody warned me about these? I hosed them, I sprayed them. Then I accepted then. I learned to recognize the tiny white eggs on skinny stalks beneath the milkweed leaves, amongst the aphids, as the eggs of the green lacewing. I learned to trust the lacewings. Eat 'em up, lacewings, you go, you grow, be fruitful and multiply. I now watch the aphids with detached interest. In the meantime, pods formed on the plant. Distracted, I barely noticed, until they dried and burst. The big reveal: gossamer peppered with rich brown seeds in enthusiastic rows, ready to fly in random formations far and wide. I grasped as much of the milkweed silk as I could in my hands, some of the fluff and slippery seeds whisping away. I felt rich. It is fine stuff, elegant and abundant. I can glut myself in its downy tenderness. The seeds promise more, more, more...

"The milkweed pods are breaking,

And the bits of silken down

Float off upon the autumn breeze

Across the meadows brown."

--Cecil Cavendish, The Milkweed