Catch a Wave

 

Catch a Wave

The waves of wildflowers are washing over the landscape these days; it seems like every morning walk there is something new.  Simultaneously, it seems that we are coming into full butterfly season as well.  I saw monarch butterflies in the yard for the first time this summer this past week.  And, like the wildflowers, it wasn’t just a single monarch, it was several at once.  I don’t think it’s coincidence that the monarch sightings have increased at the same time that the milkweed is in blossom.  The adult butterflies enjoy the nectar from the purple flowerheads and then they lay eggs on the milkweed leaves where they will hatch and the cycle starts all over again.  The spray of milkweed I stop to take a picture of, seems to say, "just add monarchs."   

I appreciate some of the flowers that, because of their complexity, or their size, it takes several days to fully open.  The chicory coming into bloom seems to signal the Queen Anne’s to join the bouquet.  The lacy white flower of the Queen Anne flower are almost, I imagine, like the birth of a star as the gradually flower unfolds, each “head” containing dozens of smaller flowers.  It is very similar to the bridal wreath flowers that I have in my yard.  Interestingly, when the flowers fade in September, they will kind of re-close into a ball again and then gradually dry down.

The blue chicory that compliments Anne’s white lace so well is one of the wildflowers that actually close each evening.  One hates to think of flowers as needing defensive tactics, but the chicory’s nightly closing, kind of like the sunset retiring of the colors of the American flag, is exactly that.  It protects the flower from pests, and helps it retain moisture.  The first rays of the morning’s new sun will find the closed chicory buds facing east, as if the only way to greet the new day is with a new blooming. 

The newly blooming yellow hawkweed also looks like a freshly-awakened sleeper.  The petals kind of point here and there as if they are caught in a morning stretch.  I bend down closer thinking I may hear a tiny yawn – ah yes, there it is, in my imagination.

The black-eyed Susans poking up out of the far ditch on the other hand stretch out just once, and they stay that way for most of deep summer.  My guidebook says that the Native Americans used them for medicine, but it doesn’t suggest what ailment it eased.  I’m going to say that they are good for treating the eye to beauty.   

Growing up behind and taller than the Susans, are several daisy flee bane.  The flowers are tiny compared to many other wildflowers, but they are arranged in bunches which makes them standout even from a distance.  The tiny petals radiate out stiffly from a small yellow center like tiny suns.    

Speaking of suns, it is climbing quickly and today’s wave is washing its colors across my view.  The temperature is rising, so it’s time to turn for home.  I wonder what new color will get added tomorrow?

His Peace <><

Deacon Dan