no frost yet
I just googled to remind myself when the average historic first frost is in the Twin Cities: “The average or typical first fall freeze in the Minneapolis-St. Paul metro area is October 10 to October 11”. Welp, so we are two weeks behind average, which is not unheard of. But what is crazy is that I just looked at the forecast and there is no frost threat for two weeks. I am making hay, as they say, capturing as mush of the remaining fall color as I possibly can because as soon as November’s gray blanket descends, STILL will start to look very different.
Autumn Blaze Maple (Acer × freemanii ‘Jeffersred’), a hybrid tree bred from a cross between red maple (Acer rubrum) and silver maple (Acer saccharinum)
going all in
Any of you who check in here regularly probably know by now that when we Hoffmans are piqued by a new interest we go ALL IN. We don’t just casually learn a few facts nor spend an hour down an internet rabbit hole to satisfy our curiosity and then move on. Ohhh, no. We can become singular in our attention, and our devotion, and maybe even borderline obsessed. Right now, Steve is in that uniquely Hoffman place with hazelnuts. He is under assignment to write an article on them, due next week, which triggered an entire autumn affair. So now we buy hazelnut oil, hazelnut flour, hazelnut cookies, hazelnut granola and trail mixes, any and all chocolate bars with hazelnuts, and of course, the nuts themselves. Steve has ordered books from Europe, visited hazelnut farms, harvested with the U of M researchers, and walked trails with experts. He probably has enough material to write a book on hazelnuts. But instead he has only a 1200 word article to work within. But that is how we roll at our house. These are hazelnut leaves from the U of M’s hazelnut research center. Hazelnuts are in the birch family, but their fall leaves are so much more colorful than our native birches. Who knew? Steve probably did.
hazel tree (or hazelnut bush) autumn leaves
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I have a wonderful and delicious recipe for a German hazelnut torte, it is made with ground hazelnuts and iced with mocha whip whipped cream. My mouth is watering just thinking about it.
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All day I was thinking about this photo of “The Community of 12.” And I, like you Mary Ju, became “obsessed.” Here’s the result….
COMMUNITY OF 12
Hazelnut leaves—
Community of differences.Bold. Beautiful. Brave.
Cute. Curious. Coy.
Fun. Furious. Frail.
Shrewd. Sensible. Strong.Born of twisting trunks
That dance like ladies at a ball,
Clothed in bonnets and helmets
And full bearded attire—
The secret to all knowledge.
Pollinated in winter
On wind and wings.But it is the tone that matters most—
The tone of the filber.
Or is it the Nutella
That fills us with desire?reply
sparrow grass
I love happening up a patch of feral asparagus in the fall with its golden ferny needle-like leaves (cladodes) and brilliant orange berries. Did you know that asparagus is sometimes called “sparrow grass” in England? The English word asparagus originally derives from Medieval Latin sparagus. I like eating asparagus; I don’t love it. But I do love seeing it along my trails in October.
Asparagus (Asparagus officinalis)
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I am moved by the photo to understand the history of this Feral Asparagus and how it might say something about my own life.
FERAL
Beside the path in an unlikely place
You stand—
Uncultivated. Untethered.
Free.
You have escaped the human system
Of control—
Forced. Ordered.
Imprisoned.
Here your needle-like leaves
Flutter—
Like a sparrow in the grass.
Wild.
And your orange round berries
Glisten—
Proud bobbles on display.
Sunlit. Playful.I was where you were.
I am where you are now.reply -
Those berries almost jump off the screen! And the leaves fade into the background, almost an afterthought.
Isn’t etymology fascinating? Some Englishman misheard the word spargus as sparrow grass, and thus a new common name for this plant was born. If you’re a word lover, the podcast Words Unravelled is quite fun!reply
late bloomers
Do you feel like you are being stared at when you look at this image? I do.
I had no idea dahlias were so hardy––continuing to bloom into late October. These surely must mark be the end of our season. Here a few interesting facts about dahlias:
Dahlias are native to Mexico and Central America. Dahlia relatives include the sunflower, daisy, chrysanthemum, and zinnia. There are 49 species of dahlia, with flowers in almost every hue (except blue), with hybrids commonly grown as garden plants. Dahlias were known only to the Aztecs and other southern North American peoples until the Spanish conquest, after which the plants were brought to Europe.
last dahlias of the Twin Cities season
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TWO
Twins.
Salt and pepper.
Husband and wife.
Peanut butter and jelly.
Animals walking into Noah’s ark.
Roads that diverged into a yellow wood.Inevitably we leave one another,
Or stand in front of,
Depend upon,
Hide behind,
Augment,
Or join.We are never
fully equal,
At least not
at the same time.But who can discern
Which is the better?
Or more beautiful?
Or more resilient?Or
Just how much
We need each other?reply -
MOTHER AND DAUGHTER
I look at the world through my own eyes,
But behind every thought and action
I feel the pulse of your heartbeat.reply -
Mary Jo Hoffman and Carla Park – a dynamic duo. The beauty of image and word in tandem! It sounds so simple, however, is anything but.
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even the lilacs go in on the action
Even the lilacs joined the party this fall. It was one of the prettiest leaf displays I can ever remember.
And now it’s raining. Badly needed, but sadly putting and end to the leafy festivities. What a show it was!
lilac leaves in autumn (Syringa vulgaris)
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In my journal, I wrote a poem to accompany this photo as I sip my coffee:
Top leaf tips into darkness,
Branch hanging in space,
Community of leaves, at different rates
Saying good-bye.
Joan, Raymond’s wife
Died today.
One less leaf.
The others waiting.
Living. Not living.
Life.reply -
Your art is so beautiful. Incredible.
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