22 July 2023 (first goldenrod)

first goldenrod . . .

a faded flannel shirt

damp with fog

27 September 2022 (late afternoon)

late afternoon light . . .

butterflies bend

the goldenrod

September 14: Goldenrod

now i get it
sunset spotlighting
the goldenrod

September 8: Goldenrod

sweater season
bees warming up
on the goldenrod

September 11

Remembering.

Goldenrod shakes under

the weight of bees.

August 22: On the trail

We hiked in to spend the night at Poplar Stream Falls Hut, part of the Maine Huts & Trails network near Sugarloaf Mountain.

On the trail, late August--

goldenrod abuzz with bees,

one red poplar leaf.

August 14: What gets me out of bed

Better than coffee--
waking to blue sky,
goldenrod blooming.

August 7: Goldenrod

First glow of goldenrod--

the field shifts to gold,

summer's mood downshifts.

Posted with Blogsy

September 7: Memorial celebration for Kate

When we talk about
goldenrod and asters, it's
really about grief.

August 10: Funeral

A character in a book I read recently complained that funerals should never take place on beautiful days, that the sun and blue sky merely taunt those who are in mourning. This foggy morning thus seemed well suited for attending a funeral, the soft focus appropriate for introspection and reflections on mortality. I was surprised after arriving in this muted mood, then, to find myself spending much of the service laughing. The deceased, whom I'd never met (I was there to support the widow, whom I know through work), was apparently quite the comedian, and the stories his family shared--they were laughing loudest--along with video clips of him hamming it up, allowed a good-spirited humor to keep at bay feelings of sadness and loss. The foggy landscape took on a different tenor on the drive home.

No gloom in this fog--
rather, goldenrod glowing,
candles in a dream.

July 31: Pollen

Last week I endured a battery of allergy tests. I thought I was done with all that when I was a kid, when my entire back reacted to almost everything on the scratch test and I had to get allergy shots for years. They seemed to work for a while, and most people with chronic allergies grow less sensitive as they get older.

Alas, not I. (I blame global climate change.) Hence, the day at the allergy doctor's office, where, once more, my back (and arms, this time) reacted to just about everything except a few things the shots seemed to have taken care of: no molds this time around, no trees except ash, no feathers. (Of course one of the biggest trees in my back yard, hanging right over the house, is an ash.) The usual trigger flowers--goldenrod, ragweed--plus "mixed grasses" and sagebrush (sagebrush?!) were also high on the list, along with good ol' cats and dogs, and that ubiquitous allegen, dust. Seriously, who isn't allergic to dust?

After being shown a video on how to dust-proof my bedroom (short answer: get rich, replace all your linens with hypoallergenic ones made by the video's sponsor, install an air conditioner, and hire a cleaning lady to properly clean your bedroom once a week as recommended because who has time for that?), I was given some new prescriptions and sent on my merry way. Oh yes, and I'm supposed to keep the cat out of the bedroom. Or get rid of her. Obviously, the doctor doesn't have a cat. I've lived with cats my entire life, so I'm going to work harder on avoiding the goldenrod instead. Because there's not much of that around when one is out in the field hiking or birding...

But I got some good new drugs out of the visit, and a renewed respect for pollen. We can't see it, yet it has the ability to make our lives truly miserable. At least the cat purrs and cuddles with you. Pollen just hangs in the air, insidious, waiting for that chance to enter your nasal passages...

So today working in my flower garden it was with no small horror that I looked down to see my left arm smeared with gold pollen. Big grainy pollen, gold as saffron, a beautiful color. Must have been from the day lilies. I seem to still be breathing just fine, so apparently it wasn't anything I'm allergic to... yet.

On my tan wrist, smear
of gold pollen, fairy dust,
a forbidden kiss.