Wednesday, July 19, 2023

Peak summer phenology

Earlier today we saw a small flock of turkeys on the rise behind the house. The exciting news is that there was a bunch of poults scurrying around among the adults. We’ve not seen any poults this year until this morning, and if memory serves, there were few sightings last year. It’s encouraging to see the next generation has arrived and is ready to thrive if we give them the chance.

Canada thistle
Canada thistle
Photo by J. Harrington

Roadside Canada thistle is developing fluff or down. American goldfinches will be collecting some to line their nests. In a month or so, there should be goldfinch hatchlings.

Again, and again, forecast rain hasn’t arrived. Maybe this evening’s thunderstorms will dampen the ground as well as the dog’s spirits? The grasses and other plants on the rise behind the house are in very poor shape. All of the state is abnormally dry to moderate drought. On the rise, turkeys have turned several locations into sandy dust baths. A handful of black-eyed Susans provides a little color. Meanwhile, at the foot of the rise, the grasses surrounding the wet spot are flourishing.

Some to much, but not most, of the field corn is beginning to tassel. A number of the local corn fields are full of bald spots where seeds were washed out last spring or otherwise failed to germinate. A second cutting of hay is getting baled and a few nearby small fields are up for sale. Will they soon be growing single family detached houses?


The Drought


The clouds shouldered a path up the mountains
East of Ocampo, and then descended,
Scraping their bellies gray on the cracked shingles of slate.

They entered the valley, and passed the roads that went
Trackless, the houses blown open, their cellars creaking
And lined with the bottles that held their breath for years.

They passed the fields where the trees dried thin as hat racks
And the plow’s tooth bit the earth for what endured.
But what continued were the wind that plucked the birds spineless

And the young who left with a few seeds in each pocket,
Their belts tightened on the fifth notch of hunger—
Under the sky that deafened from listening for rain.


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