Ragweed, Touch-Me-Nots, Wild Carrot, and a Bunch of Unidentifiable Things

June 20, 2010.  Sunday.

Situation:  Work all day today.  When I get home about 6:30, no one is here.  The Boy has gone back to NYC; Moi has taken Atlas back to Jazz’s, where she finds it less stressful to watch him.  Moi has left a note on my computer monitor that says “Mway needs supper,” “Chickens need locked up.”  I find Mway on Moi’s bed.  After I put on my walking clothes, then go downstairs to put on my boots, gloves, and safari helmet, Mway comes down to the kitchen, ready to go for her walk.

State of the Path:  The chickens come running up to me, with their peeps following behind them.  Mway and I head to the path.  Just before the pig pen, in the middle of the path, I see the conspicuous plant with long spiked green flowers which I haven’t mentioned before because I didn’t know what it was.  But since yesterday, when I was leafing through the Audubon, I think I can confidently say that this plant is a common ragweed, to be distinguished from the great ragweed, which I’m more familiar with, because most years we have that growing in great numbers, to its maximum height of fifteen feet.  I haven’t yet this year seen great ragweed growing to that kind of height (except that one time by the summer house), but I do also see it coming up around the place, perhaps more than the common ragweed.  On the side path, I refrain from eating any raspberries, because I’m afraid of getting the seeds stuck in my teeth.  But when I get down to the creek, there’s a stand of raspberries with so many ripe ones that I cannot stop myself from eating some of them; I just make a point of chewing on the better side of my mouth.  All along the path, I notice how some of the plants seem bedraggled because of the dry weather, especially the touch-me-nots.  In fact I touch some of the touch-me-nots and discover that they lack all that spring which they usually have and from whence they derive their name.  Not one of the touch-me-nots which I touch twinges or coils up (like they do I guess to spray their seeds); and this suggests to me that these flowers have bloomed prematurely this season.  On the board on the ground near the wigwams, I see the pile of turds Mway left there yesterday.  Coming up to the clearing, I see several of the white flowers with fern-like leaves that I’ve seen before and didn’t know what they were.  But again, after leafing through the Audubon, I think I can confidently say these are Queen Anne’s lace, or wild carrot, which is a plant I think I should have recognized but perhaps didn’t because of how they were situated.  I see a lot more of the yellow flowers that I saw before, and judging from their leaves it seems to me that they might be what Moi calls goose grass, or bed straw, now in flower.  But the pictures I see in Audubon for bed straw and goose grass looks nothing like this.  I also see some violet flowers and lavender flowers growing just before bug land; but, right now, I don’t even feel like leafing through the Audubon to try to guess what they might be.

State of the Creek:  It seems to me that some of the pools in the creek are starting to dry up, as I notice some wet mud among the rocks.  Particularly along the crest of the skating pond, it seems to me that what used to be one long pool has now divided up into two smaller ones, with dry rocks in between.  Still I hear some frogs leaping into the water as I walk along.

The Fetch:  Up at the clearing, Mway fetches the “pro-quality” stick more times than I care to count, but not as many times as she was doing when Atlas was around.  When we get back to the back yard, I think about my chore of having to lock up the chicken cage and expect that I’ll have to wait a while before I have to go out and do that.  But when I get back, the chickens have already all gone back in their coop, and conveniently all I have to do is shut and latch the cage door as I’m walking by.

Atlas Stresses Moi and Mway

June 16, 2010.  Wednesday.

Situation:  This morning Moi wakes me up, distress in her voice as she tells me about her trouble handling the two dogs.  “What would you like me to do?” I ask.  She complains that Mway will not eat with Atlas around and explains that she has to go into town to pick up some paint and would like me to take Mway for a walk when she gets back.  Right now I’m sitting in the office, waiting for her to return; Mway and Squeak are sitting next to me; they’ve been able to claim the upstairs as their exclusive domain; Atlas will not venture up the stairs.  Moi comes home about 10:30, and I take Mway out, while Atlas stays indoors.

State of the Path.  It’s a cool, overcast day; only a little bit of dew remains on the plants at this hour.  In the distance some heavy machine is roaring and periodically beeping (probably Holtzapple or another farmer fertilizing or spraying his field).  I take the side path along the orchard, and think to myself that it would’ve been a good day to bring along the clippers and the weed whacker; one of these days soon I’m going to have to do that, but as I look at the mullein and the touch-me-nots I almost feel hesitant about cutting down any weeds.

State of the Creek:  As I’m eating a few raspberries, I hear Mway splashing around in one of the pools in the creek.  Down the path a ways, a starling flies out of a bush then disappears beyond the trees.

The Fetch:  Mway and I stand in the middle of the clearing and work together at stamping down the goldenrod.  She fetches the “pro-quality” stick a good number of times.  When we get back to the house, I can see Moi behind the kitchen door window, trying to keep Atlas from jumping up against the door and window.  She is shrieking at both dogs, at me, and at her daughter:  “Atlas, stay down!  Mwayla come in!  I’m going to break my wrists!  If I have to do this for two weeks, I’m going to kill myself!”  As Moi finally manages to open the door without Atlas leaping against it, Mway takes off to hide somewhere.  “I was just trying to eat breakfast!  I’m choking on a piece of bread!  Mwayla where are you!”  Moi screams, as Atlas squirms out the door.  “Here,” I say, taking Atlas’s leash from Moi.  “Give him to me, I’ll take him for a walk.”  Moi hands the leash over to me, and, as Atlas pulls against it, I manage to guide him over toward the summer house.  We go crashing down through the day lilies and speeding across the lane (where I manage to glimpse at the daisy-like flowers, which I conclude are oxeye daisies, because they don’t have the fern-like leaves of mayweed), then we go thrashing down through the goldenrod, Atlas gasping as he pulls against the leash.  “Slow down,” I yell at Atlas, as I trip over the anthill before the ridge around bug land.  Atlas keeps lurching forward, at times unable to see the path clearly where it’s choked with weeds, and I think to myself that I better not take him down by the creek because I’m liable to fall over a branch or vine hidden in the grass.  But as we move along, though Atlas keeps choking against his collar, he gets a better sense of how the path goes, and we head toward the creek, floundering through the red willows and stumbling over the board that crosses the swale from bug land.  Along the creek, I worry that Atlas will venture into the water and pull me over the bank, but I manage to keep him away from the edge, and he becomes satisfied with just pulling me along the path.  We turn at the tree stand, go up through bug land and underneath the maples, and in no time we’re back at the house, where Moi is wandering around the yard wondering where Mway is hiding herself.