I swear I didn’t set out to chase orange this year, but orange must have put my name on its prayer list, because everywhere I have turned, there it was — glowing, smirking, waving at me like, “Girl! Get your camera!” And of course, I listened.

It started with

a daylily so dramatic it could have starred in its own soap opera. Still soaking wet from the morning rain, it looked like it had just finished crying in the bathroom at a family reunion — but in a glamorous way. Those ruffled petals practically saying, “Take my picture before I wilt, honey.”

Right one cue, Texas handed me a tree on absolute fire —

I am driving along the backroads to Neches from Frankston and BAM — this neon-orange diva is standing on the side of the road acting like she owns the countryside. The sky behind her was dark and moody, like it was jealous. Honestly? I understood.

A flower opening slower than a teenager getting out of bed for school. Its orange tips peeking out like, “Is it safe? Is the world still weird?” Yes, sweetheart, it is. Now hold still for your close-up.

And then the sunsets … mercy. The one over the wind turbines

Looking like the sun just spilled itself across the entire sky. Those turbines stood there like they were attending a church service, hands metaphorically raised, catching blessings. But nothing prepared me for

A desert sunset so fiery it could have fried an egg mid-air. The clouds layered themselves like a cosmic lasagna — dark on top, bright in the middle, spicy underneath. I took the photo and whispered, “Wow,” like it could hear me.

What about the inside of the chrysanthemum? That’s where orange turns into pure chaos —

a tangle of petals reaching upward like they are late for a meeting. It’s giving “organized confusion,” but in a pretty way. And when the bloom fully exploded into

It was basically a firework that forgot to stop glowing. Yellow, orange, red — the whole family reunion showed up.

Then came

a sunset so orange it looked like someone adjusted the saturation and said, “Yeah, that’s fine.” The whole horizon glowed like a stovetop set to medium-high. But one of my favorites is

Petals with natural pinstripes, like they are wearing little flame pjs. Orange doesn’t always yell … sometimes it giggles. Just when I thought my orange era was done, I walked into a scene straight out of a Hallmark Halloween knock-off: 2 pumpkins sitting together at what I can only describe as a tiny campfire —

One pumpkin even had a face drawn on like it knew it was adorable. I couldn’t help but to chuckle. It was peak fall energy.

But that’s the thing about the color orange — it doesn’t wait for permission. It pops up, taps you on the shoulder, and says, “Hey… don’t forget about the magic.”