Plants and flowers along the river (and a few insects AND a dog)

My mother always carried a wildflower book when we went on vacation. She identified "old friends" and new varieties. She would note in her book when and where she identified a plant and sometimes would press a specimen. And always we would have a glass or bottle or jar with wildflowers on the window ledge - some that she found -some picked by children and, later, grandchildren.

A three inch rain refreshed life along the river.

On my walks I soaked in as many sights and sounds as I could manage over two short days. Here we go:

???

Flowering vine growing up out of the asphalt at a "pull over."

This tiny flower...

is a wild oxalis

 Wild oxalis grew at my grandfather's ranch in the hill country.

Silver-leaf nightshade

Nightshade fruit

There were only a few nightshades, but here too they are fruiting. I read an article about the terrible impact these plants and their fruit can have on  livestock.

Carpet of tiny white flowers

Prickly Texas plant (?)

What is that saying? Everything in Texas either sticks, stings, or bites. I did not touch this plant. I don't know what it is, but it was not inviting.

Old Man's Beard ( Clematis drummondii)

Mass of Old Man's Beard bright in the sunlight.

Old Man's Beard is one of my favorites. The seeds are seen in the fluffy mounds on fences along country highways. It is also known as Durmmond's Clematis and Texas Virgin's Bower.

Little yellow composites

 Lots of little old lady wildflower seekers affectionately call these "d--n little yellow composites."

Snow on the mountain, Euphorbia marginata

Snow on the Mountain - small plant

Snow on the Mountain (detail)

 I first saw Snow on the Mountain as a huge shrub on the campus where I work. The "plant man" told me that it was a weed, but he thought it was so lovely that he let it grow. Indeed, it is beautiful with its variegated leaves/petals.  These were growing all along the road to the low water crossing.

Maybe wild petunia?

Sunflowers along the river path

Rain lilies

 There was a field full of these lilies at the top of the hill (Cabin 5). They nodded hello as we hurried to look at the river when we arrived.

Maiden hair fern growing on rocks at the river's edge.

 I don't think I have every seen as much maiden hair fern growing in as many places. This was one of Mom's favorites.

Dead tree with moss and vultures. Ghost stories tonight, anyone?

 There were so many dead trees throughout the area and along the river. This one was particularly ominous with its branches full of vultures. The vultures were scavenging around campsites as people left for home.

I am pretty sure this is my friend JK's Alamo switch grass (Panicum virgatumis)

We have a friend who has studied this grass as a fuel for power plants.

The most impressive plant along the river, of course, the bald cypress.

We walk among giants

The roots reach out to steady the tree and trip the unwary.

INSECTS:  (just a couple - really). For a number of summers we manically (maniacally?) collected insects for freshman biology assignments. We still SEE them, but leave them alone now although they continue to fascinate.

The maiden flies are constant companions along the river - even lighting on a shoulder or knee as we tube the slower parts of the stream.

Butterfly

Maiden fly

Hello - ants? doodle bugs?

DOGS: OK. I had to add my good friend here. He made me miss the pups.

The River

Fifty years ago my parents introduced me to the river. It was the year my youngest brother was born.

We returned to the river as a family every summer thereafter (except for one year when a hurricane blew away our time and opportunity with the trees at our house and the windows in my father's office).

There were years we shared the week with the family of my mother's best friend. We built dams and ran the rapids, swung on rope swings and jumped off the cliff.

The river

As our family grew, new members were introduced to the river and our traditions...miniature golf, paddle boats, canoeing, and kayaking.

DH arrived in 1980 or 1981 (he says '81). And the children have known this river for their whole lives...they have loved her from the moment they dipped their toes in her frigid water.


We have braved flood and drought to spend at least a few nights and days here - some travel across the country so we can all be here together - playing games, reading, drinking, swimming, running the rapids, and resting and renewing ourselves.

Dominoes - losing hand

This past weekend my walks were along roads I have walked these many years with family and friends. I have walked them alone, immersed in teenage angst. I have walked them while holding the tiny hands of my children and my nieces and nephews. I have walked them holding hands with my mother and father.

So many memories swirled around in my head as I walked around the pond, up and down the hill, and along the river bank.

Walking up the hill

Paths along the river

Cypress at the pond

more river

looking toward the cliff

The cicadas always sing as we arrive; frogs along the pond join in as the sun goes down; the fire flies silently dance at dusk amidst the trees along the river.

I may post again of birds and flowers, but this post is of crumbling roads and dirt paths and the rushing/gurgling/freezing waterway, changed, yet unchanged.

Finally - lightning bugs

We have had thunder storms all weekend. It made for muddy yards and nervous pups.

Our routine has been a mess.

Having missed the morning walk today we walked at night. The insects were out - those irritating no-see-ums as well as the crickets and cicadas singing their songs.

Then we saw the lightning bugs. This year we have seen a solo bug every now and again, but never more than one. We followed the intermittent flash of the fireflies as we walked into the park.  It was cool and quiet - so like our favorite family retreat. But that is another river...and we will be there soon...and hopefully there will be more lightning bugs performing their merry mating dance.


http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Firefly

The Cat Man

It was raining today so there was no morning walk. The pups had breakfast and then stood by the gate almost in a panic as the storm started through the neighborhood. Ms. Paddy surely does hate thunder. So our walk was only from the house to the yard and back again.

So I will tell another story today.

In the yard of a small house down the first hill towards the park stands a sign - "Estate Sale."

I may have mentioned in some earlier walk posts that we had not seen the cat man for a while.

The cat man was an elderly gentleman with an apparent affection for cats. He fed at least a half dozen cats on his porch and near his garage. We often saw them lounging around in the yard either waiting for him (if we were early) or digesting breakfast (if we arrived late). I seem to remember one tuxedo cat, two tortoise shells (like our Ratso), one calico and a yellow tom. There could have been a grey - it is hard to remember and the cast of characters changed from day to day.

We didn't know which cats were his and which were neighborhood creatures, taking advantage of his generosity.

He did not say much, but would nod and waive when we passed by.

We sometimes saw him firing up his fish fryer outside (you can still see the remains of the frying oil in containers leaning against the corner of the house) so I figured him to be a fisherman.

A few weeks ago we noticed fewer and fewer cats waiting to eat. We no longer saw his garage open. There were no lights on in the house. We wondered if he was traveling or sick.

Then we saw a long dumpster in the driveway. And we wondered more.

Finally, yesterday on our way back from the park we spotted the sign. So I took the dogs home and drove back down the hill.

As I entered the garage I saw the electronic football game like the one I had played with my brothers. Inside the house were the velvet floral and fruit hats we all used to wear to church. And there was a clear glass deviled egg plate among other familiar cooking gear in the kitchen. 

I stopped to talk to the lady running the sale. Our neighbor had died a few weeks ago. I learned more of his family. I knew how old he was and the ages of his children. His possessions, so familiar, told me that.

I already knew that he loved cats - and they loved him. 

The Ballet

Overcast today

Lovely sky

Sunrise over the ball fields

Sunrise in the meadow

On our last free Friday of the summer the coming fall was all around us. Corn husks were scattered along the street and through the park - deposited here and there from the harvests miles away.

The woods with its damp barn smell is starting to show ripened nuts and leaves browning. The meadow grass is ripe, seed heads waiving golden white the the morning sunlight.

The clouds were so lovely with the rising sun that we decided to walk to the end of the dirt track to capture more views. We did not expect to see the herd. We saw their tracks in the dust. We heard crashing in the western wood. But it was too late for them to be out in the open.

But when we arrived in the far meadow, the dance began. The large buck leapt from the edge of the woods leading two does and two yearlings across the side of the meadow. The herd stopped to address the audience. Within moments all turned and danced through the meadow. We saw the smaller deer, the yearlings, almost bounce - appearing and disappearing in the tall grass.

The leash tightened in my hand as Paddy and Scruff strained towards the deer - clearly wanting to join the meadow dance.

One of the dancers

Two of the dancers

Only the tail over the tall grass


Then the dancers were gone. And we could breathe again.


But just as we prepared to head for home the final soloist, another somewhat smaller buck, left the shelter of the woods and headed across the meadow. He hesitated only a moment before disappearing into the far tree line.

A chorus of dragonflies swarmed - moving back and forth overhead as we left the dirt track and the woods...a perfect ending for the ballet of our final summer Friday walk.



The count:

My memory of the walk before the dance was erased by the wonder of it all.

I carry a cane...

Our walk yesterday morning was a rushed affair. We walked down our street and noted the leaves and acorns and pecans down all over the pavement and sidewalks and yards. They are storm damage from the night before, but also a necessary culling of the harvest as we have not had enough rain for everything to develop.

We were late and there was no goofing. But on the way home we saw a limb broken loose and caught in another - hanging precariously over the road. I shook my head and thought about the damage it could do if it made its final fall unexpected by people below. So I took my cane, reached up, and hooked the limb. It was an easy fix - pulling it down and moving it out of the street.

I laughed thinking about that handy cane - it makes me look older and more feeble than I am. I carry it for other reasons - no need to use it for walking stability yet.  It doesn't frighten the neighbors, but does frighten loose dogs. I raised it to the yippy dog that always seems out and wandering the neighborhood as we neared home.

Half the time I leave the stick hanging on the fence (I hang it there while I leash and unleash dogs). I am surprised when I wander out to the gate and find the cane hanging there...waiting for the walk.

Dust devil

Today I was working with a lovely student and his mother when I turned in my chair just in time to see an ENORMOUS dust devil outside my window.

The whirlwind caught up the white dust of the street base from the construction below and whipped up a swirling cloud that grew and moved and eventually dissipated as dust devils do. It was crazy/mad beautiful!

I was reminded first of those times driving through the countryside with my parents who taught me what a dust devil was.

Then I thought of that long hot summer when I wandered the country roads of central Texas with my boy - seeking out cemeteries to document for his Eagle Scout project. We saw a lot of dust devils, straw devils, cornhusk devils and more that summer. It was a great summer of watching out for Jake (the snake) as we walked through ploughed and unploughed fields and climbed over barbed wire (bahb whar) fences and ripped jeans and met crazy folks who helped us locate hidden spots, including the missing cemetery that was no longer in Bell County (as they had moved the county line so the cemetery was in Milam County now)...

Funny what a lot of heat and a bit of dust can do...bring back a summer half a life ago.

Rain - we walked after

Arriving home tonight I found it had stormed. I drove home through a few sprinkles, but the storm in our neighborhood had been more, much more than that.



birds' nest brought down by the storm

Not sure if this was connected to the nest. Egg on sidewalk 15 feet away.

And what does one wear to walk after the storm? For many reasons (too tired to change, miffed by circumstances unrelated to weather, celebrating the rain) pearls were worn. [It could also have been a need to spiff up a bit after being recognized by a student this weekend while attired in grungy dog-walking clothes (shopping with a friend at a big box store). I am sure the grammar of that sentence is all wrong, but I shoved it all in there anyway. Oh, did I mention the oatmeal on the T-shirt? It was not a pretty look. I am thinking "crazy bag lady" look.]

So I walked pretty this evening. And the pups and I enjoyed the sounds of the last of the storm - the thunder in the distance and the water dripping from the trees and running along the curbs. [Padimus hates thunder, but tolerates it well enough when a protector is near.]

People were running too and nodded a greeting or commented on the lovely dogs (what, nothing about the pearls?).

The park was steaming. The misty vapor rose from the hot pavement and drifted in the slight wind. It was spooky and weird. Glasses were fogged and we debated further time in the thick humid air of the park, but decided to see how muddy our road. We walked and slid in the mud some 20 feet before concluding that we were decidedly overdressed for a fall. [One falls in grungy dog-walking clothes.]



The park was steaming...

Still, we dawdled a bit as we left the park thinking that if we waited long enough some animals would wander out of the woods in the dimming light. But the now empty park and steady drone of one cicada followed by a chorus of "rrrzhrrrrrrr" from a half dozen more began to unnerve us. We thought better of being caught away from home in the dark, unprepared for the things that might await us there.

Although the light was almost gone as we arrived home we noted the huge catalpa leaves torn from their branches (by the wind or downpour) and strewn across the yard. The trees themselves fared well - none rested against the house and no limbs fell as far as we could tell.

Morning will disclose all.




Dying limb - storm damage

Our creek full of water

Early to work

My walk today was around the house and to the recycling before work.

There were creatures in the dark including the neighbor's grey cat.

A Sphinx moth hovered near the trumpet vine. The cigar shaped body of this moth seems too large, too heavy for the fluttering wings. It looks in constant danger of falling as it struggles to light on a wall or window screen. It is one of my favorite large moths - the markings on its wings strikingly beautiful.

copyright Maureen Wilks, 2007 from Insects in my Backyard

The sliver of a waning moon shined over my house with a planet (Venus?) near. The moon and star pattern, familiar to us all, is special to me.

Moon and a star (but really a planet - don't tell)

Morning at my house

Another view of this fine day

Good morning.

Sunrise over the river bridge