November 4th.
Fall is falling fast and I need to grab on to it——to find an edge, a finger-hold——before it’s gone. Sometimes, grabbing just means paying attention.
Example? Random leaf prints on concrete. Nature’s monoprints are right there under my feet on the way to the car, to school, to nearly everywhere. Continue reading “Sidewalk Nature: Leaf Prints”
My neurologist and I despair of fixing my migraines, so today’s med check ended up a chat about pawpaw trees: how they reproduce, how hardly anyone beats the possums to the fruit, and where ordinary folk (not just nature nerds) can see them. Continue reading “PawPaw path (not patch)”
I love this weird bug: the aphid lion. It eats the teensy wooly aphids—they look like single snowflakes—that are drifting down from Hackberry trees everywhere. Continue reading “Aphid Lion”
Native persimmon time again: fat little sacks of sweet pulp waiting to be baked into muffins. Mom and Izzy and I foraged in an office parking lot last night, under a tree I watch all year. I check for blooms, leaves, caterpillar tents, and any evidence that the property owners have lost patience with car-spattering, jelly-bomb season. Continue reading “Wild Persimmons on the Sidewalk”
Hackberry Emperor (Asterocampa celtis), foraging for salt and minerals. My finger is deliciously sweaty. Continue reading “Hackberry Emperor”
I post pics of my volunteer Passionvine every year. (Passiflora incarnata.) I’ve talked about the extravagant exoticism of this native flower,
the Christian symbolism devised by early missionaries,
the fact that it is Tennessee’s official state wildflower,
that it is the host plant for Gulf Fritillary butterflies,
and that the wrinkly yellow fruit is delish.
But I’ve just learned something new: the flowers are smart. Continue reading “Passionvine Family Planning”
Today’s native flower pic is courtesy of our accidental driveway-crack garden. This Evening primrose (Oenothera biennis) was a volunteer rosette sprouting beneath the water barrel last summer, and now it is so tall I wonder if my bats might be swooping down to gulp the moths that pollinate it at night. Continue reading “Driveway-Crack Flowers: Evening Primrose”
Why milkweed is called milkweed. I’d forgotten how profusely they bleed milk! Continue reading “Milkweed Milk”
Dartmoor’s Wistman’s Wood is “native upland oak woodland:” one of England’s highest and oldest. These are dwarf oaks—most only 400 years old—able to root and persist in the shelter of the granite boulders that have tumbled from the tors to rest just short of the Dart river. The trees are sculpted by constant wind from the open moor. Continue reading “Wistman’s Wood”
We knew they’d be here. Up on Cripden Down, Dartmoor, England: fields of English bluebells. In bluebell woods, pixies might lure you from the path, but on the open moor, bracken—a thug of a native fern—breaks the sea of blue and presumably distracts the pixies. Continue reading “Up Cripden Down (England)”
SIDEWALK NATURE 