all bound up

we had a breakthrough, of sorts, at our home last year. we’ve been in our house for  17 years. we have three heavily wooded acres on a lake in the northern suburbs of the Twin Cities. before buying this house, we lived for 20 years in the city of Minneapolis. while in the city, steve and i gardened. we tried our hand at just about everything, but eventually settled into growing just the things we loved most: tomatoes, peppers, herbs (mostly basil), and fruit (raspberries, apples). gardening was easy in the city. the only pests were rabbits, but they were not problematic. but in this home we have way too much shade and way too many deer to garden. at all. believe me, we tried. until last year when we realized that our dock was in full sun and deer-free. what took us so long to figure that out, i have no idea. but, we now have a garden again. it’s wonderful. and every day, my husband takes a walk down the dock, to dip his watering can into the lake, and water the potted plants. he loves it in the way some people love their first cup of morning coffee. he literally can’t wait for it. he craves it. anyway, i digress a bit…the point of the story is that he often comes back to the house after watering his beloved plants carrying STILL-worthy treasures he found along the dock–like these cattail leaves and bindweed vines he brought me today. the deep green leaves and bright red vines caught his attention. i love my perceptive and sensitive husband who notices red vines on green leaves, and loves me enough to knows i would want to photograph them. and who loves his morning watering ritual even more.

cattail leaves with bindweed vine

when warm and cool air mix

welcome to september. the end of summer in the north is bittersweet indeed. there is nothing subtle about our seasonal transitions in the north. one day the winds are warm, pushing moist humid air up from the gulf of mexico, and the next they are cold, with dry winds pushing down from canada. for a few weeks in spring, and few weeks in autumn, there is a tug-of-war that is played out right above our fare state. it usually means rain and thunderstorms as the giant air-masses duke it out. and in both seasons rains mean mushrooms.

reddening lepiota mushrooms (Leucoagaricus americanus (Lepiota americana))

spontaneous explosion

sunflowers and goldenrod are not the only golden yellow flowers of late summer. jewelweed is also doing its part. preferring the creek-sides and bottomlands instead of the open fields and roadsides.  see those seed pods?  while i was snipping these flowers off their stems, one of the seed pods spontaneously exploded, releasing a dozen green seeds. that was a new experience.i love being on nature time.

jewelweed (Impatiens capensis)

it has arrived

well, covid has finally arrived in our home. my 18 year old son tested positive today. it’s our fist case in the house, so lots of swirling today to review quarantine guidelines, stock up on meds, and notify everyone he has been in contact with. so, all i had time for was snatching these puffball mushrooms from the front yard. they’re cute. almost STILL worthy.

pear-shaped puffball mushrooms (Apioperdon pyriforme)

fugal fruiting body

we’ve had a lot of rain. which, means we now have a lot of mushrooms. i am not very knowledgable about mushrooms. they make me a little nervous, to be perfectly frank. some people have math anxiety. some people have a fear of flying. i have a mild case of mushroom anxiety.

bolete mushroom (unidentified species)