Description

Some things bloom in the autumn. Amid the falling leaves, we forget new life lurking underfoot, around the corner, unnoticed mysteries stirring.

The cranberry hibiscus leaves, in full sun, grow so red the flowers are nearly invisible. And a day or so before a leaf drops, it flames even more brightly, as if a focused sunbeam were striking it alone.

Grown in the shade, those leaves retreat into a greenish-bronze — also beautiful, if not so showy from a distance, and when the flowers arrive in autumn, they are like beautiful fruit, glowing for a day.

Just one day: a hibiscus flower opens at first light and never really stops changing. It unfurls so slowly you don’t see it moving, but it is, always. As soon as it fully emerges, even, it begins to turn back inward upon itself again.

In our yard, these flowers close up by mid-afternoon. The next morning, we pick them up off the walk, tidy maroon pouches, then rinse them well and air-dry them on paper towels for brewing colorful tea in the months ahead. (YMMV, of course, this is not a recommendation.)