approaching the Ides of August #phenology

Earlier this year, we noted that the beardtongue (Penstemon grandiflorus) was not as abundant as in years past. We also noted that the spotted horsemint (Monarda punctata) had increased substantially. The same is true, and perhaps more so this year, of round-headed bush clover (Lespedeza capitata).

round-headed bush clover (plus white sage)

Photo by J. Harrington

We wish field guides included more basic ethnobotany information. Round-headed bush clover doesn't seem to be mentioned in Strength of the Earth, Frances Densmore's "Classic Guide to Ojibwe Use of Native Plants," but is mentioned in Kansas School Naturalist. While poking about the internets, we also discovered this wonderful blog posting on bush clover. It has much better pictures than ours. [We'll see if we can find a day when there's no breeze and try again.] If we had ethnobotany information right at hand, we'd probably miss some of the serendipitous discoveries we make as we try to scratch our knowledge itches online.

leaf color starting early this year?

Photo by J. Harrington

Today we noticed the first maple leaves changing color. We're not sure if it's a sign of an early Autumn of August heat stress. We failed to see any signs of the Perseids showers the past few nights/early mornings. In part, we believe that may be attributable to the smokey skies due to western wildfires. We have enjoyed the misty fields at dawn the past few days. The softness the "ground fog" adds to the view is a pleasant counter to the harsh heat and invisible but oppressive humidity that comes later in the day these dog days of Summer.

August Morning

By Albert Garcia

It’s ripe, the melon 

by our sink. Yellow, 

bee-bitten, soft, it perfumes 

the house too sweetly. 

At five I wake, the air 

mournful in its quiet. 

My wife’s eyes swim calmly 

under their lids, her mouth and jaw 

relaxed, different. 

What is happening in the silence 

of this house? Curtains 

hang heavily from their rods. 

Ficus leaves tremble 

at my footsteps. Yet 

the colors outside are perfect-- 

orange geranium, blue lobelia. 

I wander from room to room 

like a man in a museum: 

wife, children, books, flowers, 

melon. Such still air. Soon 

the mid-morning breeze will float in 

like tepid water, then hot. 

How do I start this day, 

I who am unsure 

of how my life has happened 

or how to proceed 

amid this warm and steady sweetness?

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