Mysterious blooms in October #phenology

Mid-October+, high temperatures in the low 70’s, and fresh blossoms where we’ve seen none all growing season! Welcome to Minnesota’s autumn in the midst of our global warming climate breakdown!

since when do first blooms occur in October?

Photo by J. Harrington

This morning I stepped out the back door of the garage to fuel the tractor and saw a daisy-like flower. As I moved closer to inspect, the pink flower behind the one I first noticed became more evident. There have been no blossoms like these during spring, summer or early autumn. I have no idea what’s going on, do you? Reports on the effects of climate change in Minnesota claim our winters are warming the most, but spring is the primary season for blooming, isn’t it? A quick check of Minnesota Wildflowers' list of plants blooming in the third week of October showed nothing that looked to me like our two late bloomers.

All-in-all, my starting chores for our usual seasonal transition has been rocked on its heels by this morning’s discovery. Maybe we have moved into an alternate universe, since the Vikings won in OT yesterday. I’ll keep my eyes on the skies to be sure the birds are headed south and not north, but it must be autumn because the woods are showing more and more florescent orange vests and hats and we do hear the occasional gunshot. Just to be on the safe side, this morning we gassed up the snowblower and made sure it started. Now we just need the Better Half to watch the auger, since our arms aren’t long enough to hold the control and look at the front of the machine.

[UPDATE: The Better Half informs us that last May she planted cosmos seeds last May. According to this description, they should have bloomed a couple of months ago, in August. Our world continues to grow strange.]

Characteristics of Life

Camille T. Dungy - 1972-

^{A fifth of animals without backbones could be at risk of extinction, say scientists.
—BBC Nature News}

Ask me if I speak for the snail and I will tell you
I speak for the snail.
                          speak of underneathedness
and the welcome of mosses,
                                        of life that springs up,
little lives that pull back and wait for a moment.

I speak for the damselfly, water skeet, mollusk,
the caterpillar, the beetle, the spider, the ant.
                                                        I speak
from the time before spinelessness was frowned upon.

Ask me if I speak for the moon jelly. I will tell you
                        one thing today and another tomorrow
        and I will be as consistent as anything alive
on this earth.

                        I move as the currents move, with the breezes.
What part of your nature drives you? You, in your cubicle
ought to understand me. I filter and filter and filter all day.

Ask me if I speak for the nautilus and I will be silent
as the nautilus shell on a shelf. I can be beautiful
and useless if that's all you know to ask of me.

Ask me what I know of longing and I will speak of distances
        between meadows of night-blooming flowers.
                                                        I will speak
                        the impossible hope of the firefly.

                                                You with the candle
burning and only one chair at your table must understand
        such wordless desire.

                                To say it is mindless is missing the point.

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