The rest of us (me) were content browse in those last sun drenched minutes, and revel peacefully in the resulting colors. As much as you can browse peacefully with a live sparkplug bouncing along beside you, anyway.
There is great joy in the ability to see the seasons by the changes in bloom and color. I love the way the Iris come into bloom just at their special time, after the magnolias, and before the roses. I love the way they smell like fresh grapes and musty velvet. I love the way the scotch broom garnishes the hills with gold just as the lupine shoots purple and pink spires up by the roadsides; and how I know that the gold and purple will be followed by blankets of tall, white daisies, which smell awful but are so friendly and pristine in the hot dry fields.
I just love that.
And look, it's red!