Tuesday, October 5, 2021

It’s October, blooming

Yesterday we noticed three separate, new, dandelion blossoms next to the roadway. It seemed late in the season for that but then we also saw what we think is a common evening primrose with one flower at its very stem top. As we were trying to discover the identity of the primrose, we took a look at the Minnesota Wildflowers’ list of native plants blooming in October. It contains more than 100 species, although the list shortens significantly after the first week of the month. That’s many more than we anticipated.

Common Evening Primrose (Oenothera biennis)
Common Evening Primrose (Oenothera biennis)
Photo by J. Harrington

Not to get too far ahead with our seasons, but the idea of blooming out of season reminded me that the Better Half recently came across an idea that looks really appealing as a mutual Christmas present: a three month subscription of once a month branches forced into bloom from January -- March or February -- April. Personally, I’m leaning toward the latter so there won’t be too large a gap between the subscription ending and actual spring in our North Country. No matter what the calendar says, March in Minnesota is much more winter than spring. In any event, the branches are tulip magnolia, double quince, and forsythia. For those of us who tolerate winter rather than actually enjoy it, signs that life may return some day seem wonderful. If we don’t work anything else out, I believe I’ll give myself a subscription and then share the branches as they’re forced into bloom. Remember the poem attributed to a 13th century Persian poet:

"If, of thy mortal goods, thou art bereft,

And from thy slender store two loaves alone to thee are left,

Sell one, and from the dole

Buy hyacinths to feed the soul."

-Muslihuddin Sadi,

13th Century Persian Poet


Along the lines of feeding one’s soul, some time ago I expressed the hypothesis that one couldn’t pass away as long as one’s stack of unread books was sufficiently tall. Acting on that hypothesis, I’m now prepared to admit I may be destined to live until one week short of forever. This morning I started to reorganize the stacks of unread books, magazines and computer files in a benign but foolhardy effort to bring some order to bear. That would be easier if my stacks of partially read and reread books would keep to themselves in their own stacks. But no, in this increasingly pluralistic world, even my books feel free to intermingle in search of companionable volumes, the result: volumes of companions.


October


October is the month that seems 
All woven with midsummer dreams;  
She brings for us the golden days 
That fill the air with smoky haze,  
She brings for us the lisping breeze 
And wakes the gossips in the trees,  
Who whisper near the vacant nest  
Forsaken by its feathered guest.  
Now half the birds forget to sing,  
And half of them have taken wing,  
Before their pathway shall be lost 
Beneath the gossamer of frost.  
Zigzag across the yellow sky,  
They rustle here and flutter there,  
Until the boughs hang chill and bare,  
What joy for us—what happiness  
Shall cheer the day the night shall bless?  
‘Tis hallowe’en, the very last  
Shall keep for us remembrance fast,  
When every child shall duck the head 
To find the precious pippin red



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