focus

this is the same subject matter as yesterday’s post, but with a different focus. the seeds inside these iris seed pods were lined up like kernels on ears of corn and i love the vivid little grains of russet red still left inside that one dessicated pod. but what i love most about this composition is how it changes what you think of when you think of the word “iris.” part of seasonal thinking is understanding that the oak tree is as much an oak with winter shreds of potato colored leaves hanging from its bare branches as when it is a looming and majestic crown of summer green. likewise, this black, dragon-mouthed bouquet of dry seed pods is as much an iris as its lance-leaved, blue-flowered summer incarnation. let’s love both of them, and all of the irises in between, including the bulb, frozen in silt beneath the ice all winter long, not waiting to become a flower, but actually perfectly content to be a bulb for the time of year that irises are supposed to be bulbs.

close up wild blue flag iris gone to seed

29 years

it happens to be a coincidence that today’s photo is all about aging, and life cycles, and  procreation, and sewing seeds that later blossom, but it also happens to be the perfect photo to celebrate, botanically, the 29th anniversary of my marriage to steve. here’s to 29 more messy, fertile years in his company, and the company of those we have brought into the world.

wild blue flag iris in late september

ornaments

we northerners plant crabapples everywhere, but mostly because they produce effusive blossoms in the spring, and these cascades of red fruit in the fall. i know you can make jam and preserves from them, and in most instances i  prefer fruit trees grown for their fruit, but i have to say that a late november crabapple with no leaves and a crimson cloud of fruit, when everything else is gray, is something i’m willing to celebrate, without thinking about edibility.

crab apples in late september

in between

my favorite weeks of the whole year are the few weeks in between seasons. in the north, we like to say we enjoy four seasons. but for some years now i have felt as if we have only two: really cold, and really hot. or, if you are a native minnesotan, that’s rull cold, and rull hot.  but in between real cold and real hot, there are few weeks where we get to enjoy a kind of perfect balance–warm sunny days for playing outside, and cool nights perfect for sleeping with the windows open. in minnesota, where i live, those transition weeks usually occur in mid-may and late september.  this picture of still-green asters mingling with recently spent daisy stems sums up for me the essence of these transition weeks–a little summer, a little winter, all together.

asters and spent daisy stems

a closer look

a detailed look at yesterday’s composition. i wan’t quite ready to come home yet. 😉

pressed botanicals from california