The north wind whispers through the barren branches. Leaden gray skies lay heavy upon the lifeless ground. The butterflies and the daisies may have vanished with the summer's sun, but still there are a few leftover surprises out in the fields and meadows. They're like a big bursting smile, ready to spill out with infectious laughter. They're soft, warm, silly, bouncy and fertile.
Young eyes light up with joy.
Drenching rains and freezing nights couldn't dampen the surprise. The seam on the pod opens and hundreds of little brown seeds are ready to be launched. The drab, gray field at the edge of the forest is suddenly transformed into a party scene of raining white confetti. In the U.P. we have two varieties, the common milkweed and the swamp milkweed. In the summertime the tall weed is easily recognized by its milky white sap and its pink or purple flowers.