By Stella Herzog, Guest Writer
The hydrangea bush by the driveway is starting to look tired. A few weeks ago, it was full of soft blue and purple flowers, round like cotton balls. Now its petals curl at the edges, while some have already fallen onto the mulch, and its once vibrant blooms dry up and thin out in a whisper of fading pink.
What used to be bright, now looks dusty and dim, like the sky before a storm. The perenial hydrangea is not dead, just changing. Autumn is upon us, and the bush feels it before anyone does. The air is cooler in the mornings, and the sun doesn’t stay out as long.
The once-proud bush doesn’t fight it. It just begins to let go.
When I look at it, I don’t just see a plant, but something larger. We all have our seasons. We all go through times where we shine and feel full of life. But we also go through times where we feel worn down, or not as bright.
Yet, that hydrangea bush by the driveway doesn’t seem sad about it. It just changes and accepts it. That feels important. It’s easy to walk past something like this and think it’s dying, but if you stop and look, it starts to feel like more than that. It feels like the plant is trying to slow down, and how to let go without falling apart.
People are kind of like that too. We try to stay in bloom all the time – always doing more, looking better, trying to be our best selves. But maybe there is nothing wrong with fading a little. Maybe it’s okay to rest. To look and seem a little worn. To stop holding on so tightly. The hydrangea isn’t trying to be anything else. It’s just doing what it’s meant to do. It’s not flashy or eye-catching anymore.
Despite it all, the hydrangea still matters. It’s still a part of the yard. It still belongs. There’s a soft kind of sadness in seeing it like this. Not the kind that makes you upset or cry, but the kind that makes you sit still and think for a while. The kind that makes you realize nothing lasts forever – not flowers, not moments, not even feelings. And that’s okay.
The gloom in the bush isn’t scary. It’s gentle. It tells the truth in a quiet way: things change. That’s not the end. That’s just part of it. And maybe that’s what the hydrangea is really showing – how to move through change with calm, not fear.
How to be quiet and still mean something.
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A Note on Student Features: Herzog is a junior at BHS; her essay is an original, unsolicited work of thoughtful, first-person commentary from a member of our student body. We regularly publish such features as a part of our comprehensive news coverage, ensuring The Buzz remains a platform for the unique and varied voices across the BHS community. We encourage all students to continue sharing their voices with us.
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