Last blooms #phenology

Minnesota enjoys an abundance of wildflowers. Many of them bloom during different seasons. That's one of the reasons we have a wildflower guide titled What's Doin' the Bloomin'? It organizes bloom times into four seasons: early and late Spring, Summer, and Autumn. It lists the common evening primrose (Oenothera biennis) as a Summer bloom. That's what we've noticed during past years. Yesterday we found what looks like a common evening primrose in bloom in one of our roadside fields.

late blooming common evening primrose

Photo by J. Harrington

Nearby was a bloom on one of the vetches, probably a hairy vetch. The Minnesota Wildflowers web site lists the primrose as blooming into October and the vetch as blooming June through August. That matches the "Bloomin'" guide for the vetch. The primrose, not so much. And this is before significant effects of climate change have altered plant blooming times.

late blooming hairy vetch(?)

Photo by J. Harrington

While out poking around looking a flowers at a time I didn't expect to see any (started out looking for milkweed seed pods), I came across what may be the only beneficial use of pocket gophers, as far as I'm concerned, in addition to helping to feed bull snakes. Their mounds create almost ideal conditions on which the tracts of passing wildlife can be imprinted. We took photos of a turkey track, which is about as much as we've seen of the local flocks this year. There were also deer prints but they were so weathered that details, including the surface outline, were lost.

wild turkey track on pocket gopher mound

Photo by J. Harrington

As we puttered around cutting the grass and mulching leaves, a hard swerve was required to avoid slicing and dicing a garter snake. We turned hard to the right (a rare occurrence) and the snake slithered to the left. Minnesota Seasons reports that garter snakes head for hibernation (brumation) around the end of this month. This weekend's forecast snow, should it arrive, may hasten that journey.

October

By Don Thompson

I used to think the land

had something to say to us,

back when wildflowers

would come right up to your hand

as if they were tame.

Sooner or later, I thought,

the wind would begin to make sense

if I listened hard

and took notes religiously.

That was spring.

Now I’m not so sure:

the cloudless sky has a flat affect

and the fields plowed down after harvest

seem so expressionless,

keeping their own counsel.

This afternoon, nut tree leaves

blow across them

as if autumn had written us a long letter,

changed its mind,

and tore it into little scraps.

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