Editor’s note: The Wanderer has invited student keynote speakers for local high school graduation ceremonies to share their speeches for publication. Below is the speech given by Old Colony Regional Vocational-Technical High School 2025 Valedictorian Madison Burnham during last Thursday night’s Commencement held on the school’s North Rochester campus.

            Good evening everyone, family, friends, teachers, staff, and most importantly, the graduating Class of 2025.

            Standing here today is a huge honor, and I want to start by saying thank you – not just for this moment, but for every moment that led up to this. Today isn’t just a celebration of academic achievements, it’s a celebration of growth, perseverance, and everything we’ve become together.

            Thinking back to freshman year. We walked into school not knowing what to expect. We were nervous, excited, maybe even overwhelmed. Some of us couldn’t find our classes. Some of us were quiet. Some of us were already dreaming big. And all of us in one way or another were just beginning to figure out who we were.

            Now look at us. We’ve made it through the challenges, the long nights, the group projects, the tests we studied so hard for and even the ones we didn’t. We made it through awkward school dances, last-minute assignments, and moments we thought we couldn’t bounce back from. But we did. Every one of us has a story, a journey, and today, we all cross the finish line together.

            Let’s take a moment to thank the people who helped us get here. To our teachers, thank you for your patience, your guidance, and your belief in us even when we doubted ourselves. You didn’t just teach us subjects, you taught us how to think, how to question, and how to grow. To our families, thank you for cheering us on, picking us up, and pushing us forward when we needed it most. Your love and support made more of a difference than we can ever say.

            And to my classmates: Thank you for being part of this journey. Whether we were close friends, occasional partners on a project, or just passed each other in the halls. We all shared this time together. We laughed, we learned, and we created memories that we’ll carry with us for life.

            Now, the future is calling. Some of us are headed to college. Some of us are going into the workforce. Some of us are still figuring it out. And that’s okay. There’s no single path to success. What matters is that we keep moving forward, stay curious, stay kind, and stay true to who we are.

            We’ve been told to chase our dreams and I believe we should. But I also believe that success isn’t just about big achievements. It’s about small choices. It’s about how we treat people, how we keep going when things get tough, and how we stay hopeful, even when the road ahead is uncertain.

            So let’s leave here today proud. Proud of what we’ve done, proud of who we are, and excited for what’s ahead. Because no matter where life takes us, this class, the Class of 2025 is ready.

            We are ready to lead, to learn, to fail and to try again. We are ready to make a difference in big ways and in small ones. And we are ready to take on the future, not just as graduates, but as people who know how to keep going, no matter what.

            Congratulations, Class of 2025. We did it.

            Thank you.

By Madison Burnham

            If you are among those whose preconceived ideas equate annuals with novices, think again. I used to believe that annuals began with alyssum and ended with zinnias, with impatiens and marigolds scattered in between. Thirty years as a gardener has shifted such narrow views. In fact, annuals occupy an ever-widening realm of the plant kingdom. Some are mistakenly grouped with perennials because they self-seed and many others are still undiscovered by the American gardener. I’m of the opinion – which I expect the experts share – there is a prominent place and need for these transient blooms.

            First of all, annuals are expendable – if you don’t like a certain plant, it’s easy enough to eliminate. Second, they are inexpensive. Third, they’re easy to propagate. Adding them to the perennial border to fill in an empty space – I have used a salmon flowered petunia to hide withering tulip leaves – can have a striking effect.

            “Trees and shrubs form the framework, and perennials make up the body, but annuals, in the ground and in containers, are the crowning glory,” writes Margorie Mason Hogue in her book “Amazing Annuals.” She is full of advice for every type of gardener, from the beginner to the do-it-yourselfer who wants to grow masses of plants from seeds and cuttings to the person who gardens on a small balcony and the creative types who want a garden different from all the others on the block.

            My first gardening forays, alongside my mother as she installed portulacas and petunias in our front bed and beside my grandmother’s low white picket fence that served as a backdrop to marigolds, salvias and ageratums, were unwittingly annual in content. Of course, we had perennials growing in the gardens, but it was these diminutive plants that seemed to draw my interest. Also, these were the ones I was permitted to touch.

            What at first glance was awe-inspiring was later found to be ordinary. Annuals were (and continue to be) used most often as bedding plants in town squares and in the pots and window boxes decorating storefronts and gravesites. Still as common as they are, it’s all in how they are combined and arranged.

            After a few years of exploration, foraging and nosing around, I’ve come to discover a wide range of annuals, many of them anything but ordinary. Some of the more unusual introductions, notes Ms. Mason Hogue, are the 8-foot-tall impatiens grandiflora, the firecracker vine with brilliant red and yellow flowers that will climb to a height of 12 feet, and the exotic pineapple flower, a tropical bulb that will grow in a pot on the patio.

            “In the first half of the 20th century, with the advent of better seed-growing techniques and the disruption of two world wars, the emphasis in horticulture changed to herbaceous perennials and annuals that were easily grown from seed,” she writes. “Many Victorian favorites are experiencing a revival. Double nasturtiums, double lobelia, marguerite daisies, heliotrope, coleus, and fancy-leaf pelargoniums are available again.” There is even an annual known as a “supertunia” known for their vigorous growth, abundant blooms and self-cleaning features.

            Even the traditional annuals deserve consideration for their contrasting characteristics: The delicate fluffiness of baby’s breath; the sensual appeal of a passion flower; gigantic sunflowers; pungent marigolds and elfin-sized heads of forget-me-nots (I just picked a bouquet of the latter yesterday as they are covering our potato patch like weeds!)

            I have to admit, I’m often cajoled by the names. It isn’t the way one should choose plants, but somehow the names aptly describe the flowers. Among those that I’ve selected based on sound are: migonette; cleome, larkspur, nasturtium, mimulus (aka monkey flower); moonflower vine, toadflax and fleabane as well as the ubiquitous Johnny-jump-up. Must haves include agapanthus (or lily of the Nile, brugmansia and gilly flower (known more commonly as stock). For whatever reason, I seem to have as much regard for the name as the flower itself.

            Unfortunately, for the same reason the sound of a plant might prejudice me against a potential purchase (A climbing rose known as Don Juan, devil’s tears, stinkweed and stinging nettles are not what I consider enticing names).

            Whatever the incentive, I enjoy the freedom to select different annuals each year to perk up the perennial and vegetable beds as well as pots on our back deck. The results are sometimes surprising.

            One summer, I planted an annual in a prominent spot along our front walk. “Love Lies Bleeding” was its allusive name… a bit Bronte in tone, I thought, imagining a romantic English flower with cottage appeal. What sprouted was more along the lines of reggae king Bob Marley – profusions of burgundy-colored dreadlocks cascading from 4-foot stems. Very exotic! Nothing English or New England about it! I wasn’t sure they were the right look for the front walkway where I’d sprinkled the seeds. But since they were healthy, I let them stay. Many commented on how unusual they looked.

            This summer I am bringing them back in a niche garden beside a little Budda – on the path to Nirvana.

• “In his garden, every man may be his own artist without apology or explanation,” Louise Beebe Wilder.

The Seaside Gardener

By Laura McLean