Regal and Wild

Ann said, "Aren't the wildflowers lovely? They have really taken off!"

"Yes, and the grasses too since the mowing program changed," I replied.

"I love it!" she added, turning toward home.

"I do, too, and so do my bugs!"

At the moment, the Cheston dam wears wildness like royalty wears crown jewels. 

Whatever this weedy stem is offers fantastical proof.

News Flash!

A riot has broken out in Shakerag Hollow! The trilliums, spring beauties, Dutchmen's breeches, trout lilies, and hepatica have taken over the forest floor! Bees, flies, and bee flies are on high alert! Code GREEN! Get down there! Now! Before it's too late! (If you cannot see the slide show below, please follow this link.)

Wobbly Legs and All

Shakerag Hollow is blooming, despite recent snow and ice and endless fog. Nature's first green is not always golden: witness the harbingers of spring!

It's remarkable how quickly my sullen mood turns joyful on the appearance of the Mourning Cloak and tiny wildflowers pushing up through winter's chaos of leaf litter.

An early stroll is well worth the wobbly legs and all!

Late Bloomers

One frost already, but not all blooms have gone the way of summer. 

At Lake Cheston, turtlehead appeared a few weeks ago, thanks to the College's new mowing plan. The dam now thickens with color and leaf, providing pleasure for insects and people alike.

At Lake Dimmick, this lovely purple flower pushes up through sandy soil. A quick email to a director of the Herbarium earned this response, "Soapwort Gentian-Gentiana saponaria." This name is meaningless to me, though its popular name lifts my spirits: harvestbells.





May these last flowers keep ringing a bit longer!

Happy Accidents, Part 4

(Please note: For parts 1, 2, and 3, please follow the linked numbers.)

Just as I leaned in to snap a few photos of the beautiful yellow-green grasshopper (my favorite variety), James called from the opposite bank, "Love your wildflowers, Robley!"

"Me, too! Just love the College's new grounds manager!"

The flowers and stems set off the hopper to its best advantage, especially as it held its face up to the maroon and lime blossom cups.

But it was only after downloading and looking at the snaps on my computer screen that I realized an equally complementary and colorful creature lurked in the background. A caterpillar lounged just behind.

I really do love happy accidents, so much so that I hope to continue missing what's right there before my eyes. Even when they don't see, my camera does!

A Walk on the Wild Side

Wildflowers

by Reginald Gibbons

Coleridge carefully wrote down a whole page   

of them, all beginning with the letter b.   

Guidebooks preserve our knowledge

of their hues and shapes, their breeding.

Many poems have made delicate word-chimes—

like wind-chimes not for wind but for the breath of man—

out of their lovely names.

At the edge of the prairie in a cabin

when thunder comes closer to thump the roof hard   

a few of them—in a corner, brittle in a dry jar   

where a woman’s thoughtful hand left them to fade—

seem to blow with the announcing winds outside   

as the rain begins to fall on all their supple kin

of all colors, under a sky of one color, or none.

Let the Rumpus Begin!

Shakerag's spring has sprung! One Question Mark and one Mourning Cloak butterfly flitting and lighting, numerous no-see-ums stirring the leaf litter, and wildflowers poking up everywhere!