Monday, 15 June 2020
I know this as butterfly weed. But I didn’t trust my recollection, so I searched the database of digital knowledge. Turns out: yup. And it’s in the milkweed genus…more evidence of my boundless ignorance.
Best part: the butterfly sunglasses.
Sunday, 14 June 2020
Good vibes morning sky.
Don’t recognize this tree (shrub?).
Just a bit of mystery to this fence-shadow.
Rain cells came through afternoon and evening, so it’s a good thing I got a nice morning sky photo—evening would have been…drizzle.
Saturday, 13 June 2020
And…2020 is almost half over. Still 2020, however.
Not new.
Not new at all.
For grins: today’s botanical photo is of rounded decorative leaves. No blooms, blossoms, or flowers.
Friday, 12 June 2020
Near as I can tell, the “Be Kind” was purposefully added right next to the security sign. Strange juxtaposition.
Kinda like these times.
Thursday, 11 June 2020
Rain overnight. Plants need the precip. I needed the change in weather. Cooler! I heard that last year at this time, ATL had had 20 days at 90°F and above—this year, zero. I walked in high 70°s…and was very happy.
I worry about “Vehicles towed…” signs that do not also say WHERE!…or at least give a [functioning] phone number. Gorgeous two-story columns do not balance my worries.
Delicate mushroom. Had to include a plant kingdom photo. Ooops. No longer plant kingdom—fungi kingdom. ([cranky voice] What! Oh. Fungi kingdom was proposed in 1969. I learned the kingdoms back when fungi were plants. [So there.] 😜 )
Wednesday, 10 June 2020
I left early, as in I’ll walk for an hour and a bit, and be home by eight—another overcast morning (whew), yet humid humid humid. That’s a prescription for early outdoor exercising, if at all possible. Rumor is overnight the weather will change. I won’t be ready for the hot-sunny real thing.
So there I was one foot in front of the other, no coffee yet, trudging at a good pace (is that still trudging?), when I realized that pink and white feathery plant bits were smashed into the blacktop beneath my feet. I looked up: mimosa-in-bloom.
Later, nose down once again, I spotted stump transformation underway. Go fungi!
Tuesday, 9 June 2020
I headed out on my walk thinking my body was adjusting to early-mid Deep South summer after being in mid-spring northern Midwest, and I was darned lucky that it was overcast. Humid, but no bright sun.
A man’s voice penetrated my distraction. He told me about a lost dog, a small golden retriever. Phone number on collar. I said I’d call if I saw her. I rounded the next corner and saw a woman carrying a…yup, small golden. Which was not tiny; I’d say smallish medium-sized. I said, “you found her!” “Yes,” she said, “she was sitting at the end of a driveway.” All’s well.
Not so happy second story. Voting is a real mess in this state, or at least in this city.
We were lucky that we received our absentee ballots. They were long. About half judges, at all governmental levels. Took us both quite a bit of study to work through all the options.
Then we set off with our properly (I sure hope) packaged ballots to drop them in a ballot box toward downtown. While we were there long enough for me to drop ours off, we saw six other parties dropping off ballots. That’s a steady flow, considering it took me less than a minute to walk across three lanes, a wide sidewalk, and up a gentle half-flight of steps, push them through the door, then return. That’s a big pile of absentee ballots, and there were at least a half-dozen other absentee drop-off stations in this county.
For grins (as the saying goes), we returned home by two polls…. Both had long snaking lines, at least a half-mile, I estimated. Social distancing had collapsed somewhat…huge numbers of people. Lots of reasons for the problems, beginning with long ballots, brand new machines, and inexperienced poll workers. Afternoon showers I’m sure did not help things. I will not speculate on the role of incompetence, or the potential for malevolence masquerading as incompetence in the poll problems.
Photo themes: color graduation (small changes…you get it); parting of the plant (separations in wholes); and the sign for an Atlanta institution, the Sweet Auburn Curb Market (local name for the market; WikiPee details that the Municipal Market sign is a replica.
Monday, 8 June 2020
Some important aspects of the landscape are invisible to most of us. This farm is not terribly far from a major border between catchment basins. Behind me is the Tennessee River Valley—that water flows into the Mississippi River, while the south side, this side, flows into the Coosa and then the Alabama. Both end up in the Gulf, albeit via different routes. Not readily apparent while touring the countryside.
At home, we found the wee basil plants—”regular” Genovese and Thai—are doing well. They need water, but some are already going to seed. Gotta snip those when I water!
Perhaps the biggest news: we do not have to wait in line to vote in person tomorrow; our absentee ballots did indeed arrive while we were gone (they should have come before we left; love bureaucracy 😉 ).
Sunday, 7 June 2020
Ah, well, if the dandelions are going to seed, it must be time to hit the road.
Time to leave behind this first phase of the Cow Parsnip Eradication Program. I have no doubt I’ll be scouting for survivors on my next visit.
I admit that I find the regularities and irregularities of patterns in nature soothing.
Now that I’m soothed, it’s time to look at the headlines and read a few paragraphs of news stories…see what’s happened while we’ve been ticking away the miles.
Saturday, 6 June 2020
During today’s Eradication Operation, I had to remove several larger plants (but still perhaps youthful and medium-sized)—sure enough, the roots resemble parsnips. Indian celery/rhubarb are other names for the cow parsnip. Yes, if you’re careful, there are edible parts. Don’t count me in, though.
These are garden lupines gone wild, so I guess they technically are an invasive species. Pretty, pretty, however. I’m told you can eat the beans, as with other members of the Fabaceae family. This type doesn’t make the large seeds called lupini in Italy—which I ate not knowing they were lupines. Interestingly, they are beans with no starch. Some people’s body find these and other beans toxic. But I digress.
Meet Bailey. I threw her floppy not-a-Frisbee over and over (she mostly returned it to my feet), waiting for her to tire. Then, I accidentally threw it in the PI way over in the corner of the yard, and that was the last time (I’m tooooo allergic). With no more tosses happening, she took a nap. Sweet Bailey. A great fetcher.