Centennial Spirit

In late summer, just as the garden starts to droop - black-eyed Susan and bee balm reduced to their seed heads, purple echinacea rinsed of color, zinnias spindly, long-neglected basil exploding with white flowers - the crepe myrtles bloom.  My parents have a crimson "Centennial Spirit" which I planted probably ten years ago.  It stands alone as a specimen, although I've seen it better used as a punctuation point at building's edge, and, in the American south, it is planted in long, waving rows along the highways.  In its indefatigable brightness, the dollops of color it gives the weary garden, it is like the bourgainvillea of the Northeast - although, in fact, Lagerstroemia is native to India and southeast Asia; while bougainvillea, which I have long associated with India and Asia, is native to the (South) Americas.  "Centennial Spirit" opens elegantly from the bottom like a goblet, with dappled bark that peels off in bands.