These are the stems (ahem, petioles) of the successful transplants from last year’s relocation of most of the rhubarb crowns. They’re a wee forest now, so much more vigorous and healthy than before. And so tempting to pick a few stems and make some sauce. However, I’m following received wisdom and resisting picking to permit the plants another year to recover.
The rain barrel collects drips for hours and hours after precipitation stops, which makes such enticing patterns.
Other drops in other places look like gems, here decorating barberry leaves.
Kinda felt like today would be too…muggy for much outdoor work, or really much activity at all. So, we opted for an air-conditioned ride to Serious Grocery Shopping, or a UP approximation thereof. Eventually the overcast burned off and the sky became stunningly clear, with very white poufy clouds.
Because we rarely shop at this emporium, we did some aisle-wandering to find all items on our list. Somehow (as in: Someone Else wanted Oreos), we wandered past the Pepperidge Farm cookie section, and I discovered my recollection of the varieties offered is way, way out of date. [That’s a good thing?] I note the geographic distance between the locations referred to by these two names. Not being a particular fan of either coconut or milk chocolate, I easily gravitate to the Mackinac version. Also, at 8.6 oz vs 7.2 oz, whatta bargain.
The humidity still haunts us when we begin outdoor chores in the morning, although less so before the sun gets strong. My shirt was wet through after twenty-five minutes of stump-grubbing. By mid-afternoon when I headed to the beach for a lake-bath (see above), I saw the clouds changing, and now it’s raining, so: 100% humidification.
I did this and that today, and in between read a few pages of “The Catalogue of Shipwrecked Books,” by Edward Wilson-Lee (2018). It’s about the library that the second son of Christopher Columbus amassed, larded with detailed stories about the father, of course. I kept having to check on Wikipedia pages to get more context than Wilson-Lee offered. I was especially curious about the geography of central-northern Spain, which wasn’t Spain then. And map pages do load slowly here in the hinterlands.
With our early spring and late summer timings of our visits, we caught the beginning of lilacs and lupines, and the end of the sweet peas. And apple season! We had our first of the year last night, and it was sweet and fine (albeit slightly mealy, but it was a mealy kind that I forget the name of). No insects, either! Yay.
This afternoon, after the rain that started overnight stopped…
…I took a walk down to the beach as an antidote to the nauseating reporting by David Enrich in WashPo, “How a Corporate Law Firm Led a Political Revolution”…
…which discusses in detail how the law firm Jones Day inserted their (conservative) choices into the judiciary across the country, including into the Supreme Court.
Lest you think this was a side-effect and not a deliberate plan, note this quote from Rob Luther, one of Don McGahn’s assistants in the White House Counsel’s Office, soon after he left government service and joined Jones Day: “We did it! We reshaped the judiciary! We changed the country!”
It, indeed, was a foggy morn, but there was more than that going on. Here’s the earliest light. Just magical. My eye found more pink in the sky than this shows. If you like pink.
This was at the beach mid- to late-afternoon. I think this is a native mint/mint family. Love the flower-collar at the leaf junctions. [Kindly substitute the botanical terms, if you know/care about them.]
Clear, warm, and somewhat humid. Still, we did about eighty minutes of hard work this morning before the sun’s intensity ramped up—mostly cutting and vanquishing grass and weeds.
That’s the cycle of life around here. It’s either too cold for plants to flourish (or grow at all), or we’re in the brief period when it’s warm enough, and they grow with great urgency to make it through the growth cycle and produce seeds before freezing weather repeats.
This goldenrod (probably Solidago canadensis) is late to the blooming game, yet I know it’ll manage to be reproductively successful before the first killing frost.
I treasure these ground-fog mornings. They only happen when many variables align…lack of wind all night, sufficient humidity, clear skies…and they aligned this morning. The fog thickens, thins, then thickens again over perhaps a half-hour. This was the first phase of thickening, with the earliest dawn light. So glad I was awake for this.