There’s really no need to actually get into the water, Flynn explained to me. Everything that’s really interesting out there in the water eventually has to come in to shore. Where I am waiting. And ready. Because the shore belongs to me.
Yesterday’s Phenology: Actually a pleasant late-summer day. I’d say 80 degrees, tops, and dry, (after the rain from last night’s thunderstorms dried up.) Did I see much phenology today? Nope. Many bees and other flying insecta in the garden, and on the goldenrod. I leave them alone, they leave me alone. Live and let live, that’s what I say. There appears to be some leaves falling from the trees, but of course it’s much too early for that sort of nonsense, and so I am probably imagining it. They are probably just loose leaves being blown about, and I only happen to see them as they are gently descending to earth. I’ve been hearing more cardinals singing now. Perhaps they were singing all summer, but, in the long days, they were up and singing before I was up and listening. Once again, our clocks are briefly synchronized.
Thirteen hours and 19 minutes of daylight today (8/30), or, as we Phenologists put it, 13:19. That’s right about average for this time of year.
I’m a guy who likes a rainy day, who prefers a rainy day, and a dreary grey rainy landscape. My sister tells me I would like it in Ireland, and I’m sure she is right. This particular view is on the way back from Hibbing this past Saturday. Perfect driving weather. Especially if you are not actually doing the driving, but instead scrunched down sleepily in the back seat, gazing at the misty landscape as it slides past.
Yesterday’s Phenological note: Pretty typical late August weather. Sunny. Hot. Humid. Add 200,00 people into the mix and you have the Minnesota State Fair. Which we are missing this year, for a change. I’ve noticed that our second crop of raspberries is coming in, and there is an abundance of various flowers busily flowering in every corner of our yard, attracting clouds of flying Insecta. The Goldenrod is getting out of hand in spots. The Morning Glories are bright blue and cheery. Driving home from the funeral home last night I could see a lot of lightning in the north, playing in the clouds, and at home the radar revealed slow moving thunderstorms that seemed like they may or may not ever arrive. As I type this, though, I can hear the first rolls of thunder, so things are looking up.
I see that the Milkweed pods are fat with seeds; as we went to the Tiny Diner a couple of days ago we saw a few Milkweed that were crowded with Milkweed Bugs. (Yes, a clever name. How did they come up with that?) We don’t mind individual bugs too much, in general, but festering seething masses of them just plain gives us the willies.
More thunder. Experienced phenologists are able to extract meaning from the various rumblings, echos, and peals of thunder. This particular thunder is telling me I had better get off the computer soon.