Summer has officially ended in Toronto, but the summer-long yellow flowers at Rosetta McClain Gardens remain, stubbornly clinging to their beauty in exaggerated movement and ebbing life, ignoring the signs in the cooler air that politely hint to them that it’s time to let go.

I feel a strange longing while gazing at these yellow flowers and, for a moment, I am curious about my persistent fascination with their colour of yellow. What does yellow represent to me? The reason eludes me, but I need to know, and intuition leads me to search for it through photographs taken in previous visits to the Azores around this time of the year. And sure enough, there they are:  flores amarelas.