Clara stood at the edge of the flower bed, hands on her hips. She was a practical woman, a retired botanist who believed in facts over folklore. But every year, the same question tugged at her as the frost crept closer.
Clara almost forgot about her experiment. Spring arrived in a rush of daffodils and mud. She tilled the vegetable patch, trimmed the roses, and planted her usual rows of zinnia seedlings she’d started indoors under grow lights. do zinnias reseed
Clara laughed. “Better than some people I know,” she said. “They just need you to be a little lazy in the fall.” Clara stood at the edge of the flower bed, hands on her hips
The first hard frost came in October, turning the stalks to gray lace. Snow followed, then rain, then the long gray sleep of winter. Clara almost forgot about her experiment
That afternoon, she decided to run an experiment. She didn’t collect a single seed head. She didn’t prune or mulch or fuss. She simply let the zinnias stand, letting the autumn winds rattle their dry crowns.
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