hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way

It’s almost November; these nasturtiums should be gone by now. But they seem to have a made a last desperate effort.

But no one’s told them when to run ….
… they’ve missed the starting gun

(apologies to Pink Floyd)

And when the frost comes, as it surely will … (it will, won’t it?) … they’ll be no more.

Except for a few capers lying on the soil (unless I gather them up for next year).