September 24, 2010. Friday.
Situation: Late last night I did do a yahoo-search of the strange plant. I typed in “late summer yellow wildflower with prominent green sepals compound leaves.” Of course I came up with thousands of entries, with the first several pages only remotely relevant to what I was looking for. I have to work tonight, and I decide to take Mway for a walk about 2. I discover the birch branch in the music room, put there by Mway, as she once used to do with my boots, to remind me of our walks.
State of the Path: Mway, who’s already outside, jumps off the porch when she sees me and starts chasing after one of the hens. I yell at her to stop. She stops, and takes off after another one. But when the second hen swerves away, Mway continues straight and takes a sip out of the chickens’ water dish. In front of the chicken coop, where we have a stand of Jerusalem artichokes, a number of the tallest ones have come into flower. I take a left onto the side path; the Arum honeysuckle berries are in thick clusters and seem to be turning slightly orange. It’s hot out again today (Moi thinks I should go in the pool for one last time, and I would except for my chest cold). It seems very quiet today, but then I notice the sound of cicadas, the sound of cars on distant highways, the crunching of the leaves under my feet. Where I spotted a New York or New England aster yesterday, a second one has come up. Down by the wigwams, the ground seems for the first time this year to be covered with a lot of dry maple leaves, though the maples still have most of their green leaves. I see, down by the creek, the black walnut trees turning completely yellow. Down here, the New York or New England asters keep on spreading; at places where they’ve bushed up, there may be as many as a hundred flowers. I stop to look at the green-sepaled plant. More of its leaves have turned purple. Its yellow flowers (or are they the stamen?) still have not opened up, and it seems to me if they are going to they would have done so today, since the sun shines right down on this plant.
State of the Creek: The first puddle at the narrows is the size of a footprint; little black bugs swirl around in it. The second puddle is about the size of a hubcap.
The Fetch: Mway greets me at the clearing with a smile. But she only fetches the stick once. Why – is it because it’s 2:30 in the afternoon, the wrong time for a walk?
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This year, again, I’m trying to identify the wildflower with the long sepals and paintbrush-like flowers, googling keywords to no avail. A website called the Sycamore Island Picture Gallery has a number of fine photos of familiar plants – goldenrod, jewelweed, morning glories, smartweed (the stuff I’ve been calling lady’s thumb) – but nothing like the long-sepaled plant. This year tickseeds have been catching onto my pants on about every walk – presumably from the tickseed sunflower. Every time I notice the stickers on my pants I look around for the plant they would’ve come from, but I’ve yet to find anything.
Yesterday, it was raining hard again, and a certain no one in particular and I went down to look at the flooding creek. That certain no one certainly shows no fear of high water.
I’m not addressing this to anyone in particular, but I’d like to let the whole world know that we’ve invited the monster to our house this evening. To us he is not a monster, but a friend called Lenny. Actually his invitation was his suggestion. He’s going to bring some shots for Wood – but only for Wood – and also his clarinet and guitar. Since the restaurant where Moi and I play is closed, and Lenny wanted to get together with us some time to play music, we thought tonight would be a good time.
Ldrwe lkk rgw qlta tiy;cw lkewlst gynukulrws nwm biq tiy si rgua, Vyr bi nlrrwe 00 U qukk vw oewolews,
Am I hearing from who I think I’m hearing from?
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