The beginning of wisdom, as the Chinese say, is calling things by their right names. (E. O. Wilson, as cited by Elizabeth J. Rosenthal, Birdwatcher: The Life of Roger Tory Peterson)

Sunday, June 12, 2011

Day Lilies, Red Black Raspberries, and a Mullein

June 12, 2010.  Saturday.
Situation:  Moi and I both work tonight, but at separate places.  I could’ve taken Mway out again this morning, for when I came down into the kitchen she was ready for one, but since I didn’t work this afternoon, I postpone it until now, around 3:45.  I have to arouse her from her nap with Moi.  When I open the door, Mway is standing behind it, ready to play the game where she pounces at the doorknob, knocking the door shut, then leaps at the transom window, a game the Boy and I unfortunately taught her to play many years ago (unfortunate because one time she bit the Boy in the nose) and have been unable to train her not to do it anymore.
State of the Path:   One rabbit runs across the lawn beyond the corn crib, another dashes down the path.  Mway misses them both, instead crouching in front of the garden pond to try to poop, but unable to do so if she thinks I’m too close behind her, so that she runs a little farther ahead to try again.  She succeeds by the time we get near the pig pen.  The day lilies just opposite the pig pen are in bloom.  A squirrel scrambles up the branch of a young black walnut tree, bending the branch considerably and making a lot of racket.  The black raspberries are now red along the old orchard; the blackberries out farther in the field are still green.  The goldenrod at the end of the side path is now chin high.  Just before the maples, I see a new wildflower; it’s weirdly shaped like a narrow pyramid, with white flowers on top.  For some reason, I think “mullein,” and when I look in Audubon, although it’s not common mullein, it looks damn close to moth mullein, although the photo doesn’t show its leaves and erect stem for me to be a hundred percent positive about this identification.  (Audubon describes the flowers as having a brown-purplish mark; I recall a pinkish mark, but brown-purplish sounds good enough to me.)  Down by the creek, there seem to be a lot of what I think are starlings, flying low through the bushes and trees, and scolding me nastily.
State of the Creek:  Mway wades into one of the pools in the creek; it’s deep enough that the water pretty much reaches to the top of her legs.
The Fetch:  Up at the clearing, I take my stance just in front of where it’s trampled down a lot, so that Mway, in spinning around, will help keep more of the goldenrod down.  She fetches the “pro-quality” stick more times than I care to count, but probably not as many times as she did yesterday.  When I get back to the house, I’m hot and sweaty.  The neighbor’s kids are in their McPool (which, however, I’m sure is bigger than mine, though I’ve never taken a close look at it), and I could hear their McScreams and McLaughter the whole time on my walk.  Moi tells me that I better hurry to get into our pool, for there are storms in the west of the county.

8 comments:

sisyphus gregor said...

So how did you proceed?

Anonymous said...

I turned instead to “The Adventures of Taxi Dog.” “My name is Maxi…” Not much friendlier. Then later in the day I knocked down some books off your shelves, many of which I knew didn’t have pictures. “Call me Ishmael. Some years ago – never mind how long precisely – having little or no money in my purse…” There were my buddies “call” and “me,” but nothing but enemy territory beyond. I circled around to another hillock, saw the friendly faces of “I and “can,” but what fierce foes maneuvered behind them: “…feel the heat closing in, feel them out there making their moves, setting up their devil doll stool pigeons, crooning over my spoon and dropper…” I headed for another hill, saw my pals “A,” “comes,” and “the” fraternizing with “screaming,” “across,” and “sky, and realized I had to beat a retreat to Bread Man. M.

Anonymous said...

By the way, I didn’t know you disapproved of the transom window game. I suppose I could stop playing it, but it seems an important thing to keep up. M.

Anonymous said...

And by the way, in your State of the Path section today, you write “the blackberries out farther in the field are still green.” Shouldn’t that be “the blackberries farther out…”? M.

sisyphus gregor said...

“Out farther” is apparently part of my conversational speech. In this journal, for the sake of speed in writing, I’ve tried to be as colloquial as I possibly can be, avoiding as much as I can any sort of literary language.

Anonymous said...

So you don’t compare yourself
“To Virgil:
“Landscape-lover, lord of language
More than he that sang the “Works and Days,”
All the chosen coin of fancy
Flashing out from many a chosen phrase.”? M.

sisyphus gregor said...

No, I don’t even liken myself
To Bill Bryson:
Appalachian-trail appreciator,
CEO of the commercial writing marketplace,
More than anyone else who might have walked it,
Many a Dead President whipped from a sharp
Sentence of self-deprecating wit.

sisyphus gregor said...

– Mon Jun 13, 4:20 am ET
LONDON (AFP) – Rights campaigners reacted furiously after a US student based in Scotland unmasked himself as the author of the "Gay Girl in Damascus" blogs, which charted the security crackdown in Syria.
Tom MacMaster, a 40-year-old Edinburgh University masters student, admitted Sunday that he was "Amina Abdullah", who had described "herself" as a Syrian political blogger.
The Abdullah character rose to fame with her reports on the pro-reform movement, posting as "an out Syrian lesbian's thoughts on life, the universe and so on".