Mway's Smiling Face in the Goldenrod

July 26, 2010.  Monday.

Situation:  So far today I have no work, although I will have to check my email again before noon to see if anything came in.  I will have to mow the lawn sometime today; with the storms and humidity of the last few days, though there are brown spots in the lawn, much of the grass has gotten high.  It is cool today, the humidity gone, a breeze blowing in the office window.  Tomorrow Moi and I are going to NYC to visit the Boy.  He’s scheduled us for a taping of the “Daily Show.”  We plan to stay the night in a hotel, then come back Wednesday in time for me to work Wednesday night.  Barb Dennehy will stay at the house to watch Mway, Squeak, and the chickens.  I may not have time on Tuesday or Wednesday to take Mway for a walk, or if I do I may not have time to write about it in this journal.  Moi is working this morning, and she already has thrown stick with Mway and has fed her, but she hasn’t taken her for a walk.  The dog is lying down in front of my bedroom door, waiting, I’m sure, for me to put on my walking clothes.  It’s 9:48.

State of the Path:  The sky is striking, almost artificial like a china bowl, in its blue cloudlessness, especially above the green leafy tree tops.  Out on the side path, I run into a 4-foot curly dock, like those in the front of the house – it must have been here before, but I’d never noticed it.  A strange flower, something like a heal-all, sprouts from one of the anthills; its center seems to have burst open with dark purple seeds or buds; I haven’t seen this happen with any of the other heal-alls, so I’m not sure what kind of plant this is.   As I round the bend of the side path and come into the goldenrod, I regret not bringing my clippers.  It’s a cool day, a good day for clipping.  The path is almost imperceptible through the goldenrod, with occasional briars sticking out in the way.  When I get to the main path, I think about going back to the house to get the clippers.  But instead I start whacking, rather impulsively, at the goldenrod I’ve just waded through with the “pro-quality” stick.  The plants fold back, and soon I see, just beyond the reach of my stick, Mway’s tiny smiling face looking at me through the leaves and stems; I’m immediately thankful I didn’t bash in the head of the poor dog.  Along the creek, I determine that the yellow flowers I thought might be St. johnswort are indeed that; I see the markings on the flowers; they’re just not as big as the ones above the ridge.  The fringed loosestrife, I’m sure also, is fringed loosestrife; but it’s also not as vigorous as plants I’d seen earlier; I see a few more specimens along the crest of the skating pond (to get across the feed channel, I have to grab hold of the honeysuckle bush).  Among the red willows, I take another look at the pink carnation-like, milkweed-type plant.  Whatever it is, I still don’t find anything like it in the Audubon, just like the purple wildflowers growing up nameless a little farther beyond in bug land.

State of the Creek:  As I near the creek, I hear a bullfrog.  Below the tree stand, I look beyond the multiflora bush and actually see water flowing toward the pool of water beneath the big maple tree, which Mway wades into as usual.  All along the creek, there is water, trickling through the rocks, flowing around weeds, shimmering in the pools, with smoky shadows cast across the pools’ surfaces.  The vinyl siding is completely under water, and near the car tire, water trickles through the wide basin of rocks.  The water, though, is not high enough to be heard, and as I note this I realize I’ve been hearing the constant shimmering racket of grasshoppers, or some sort of grasshopper-like insect.

The Fetch:  Up at the clearing, Mway makes one fetch – just as expected on a morning walk after Moi has already tossed stick with her.  Before I throw the stick, I see what I believe are little grasshoppers leaping, out of fear of my approaching legs, from one goldenrod plant to the next.