these are rings from the stem of yesterday’s thistle. i told my husband, a little too casually it turned out, “hey, honey, can you cut me some disks from the stem of that massive thistle we brought home yesterday?” then i watched as he tried a chef’s knife, then a better chef’s knife, then a bread knife, then a kitchen shears, then a garden clipper, then a garden lopper, then an exacto blade, then a carpenter’s utility knife, then a hacksaw, and, finally, his beloved cordless circular saw, before we were finally able to cut disks from this tender looking piece of vegetation, without either shredding it, crushing it, or failing to penetrate it at all. i could see him eyeing his chainsaw… it was as informative a lesson as i can imagine in how this thistle managed to grow seven feet tall in one season, straight up out of lakeside earth.

field thistle stem

grass lake regional trail, saint paul, minnesota

there is no way to add scale to a STILL blog photo against a blank white background. so to clarify: this wreath of thistle leaves is three feet across, made up of 13-15 inch long leaves, taken from a field thistle that was no less than seven feet tall, with a stem almost two inches in diameter. this is a thistle on a scale that we have not seen around here for years. on on unrelated side note, this wine lover was just reminded tonight of the unlikely connection between thistles and wine. the word thistle in latin is carduus, which leads to cardoon in english, and chardon in french. cardonnacum is the latin word for “a place where thistles grow,” and is believed to be the origin of the village in burgundy called “chardonnay, saône-et-loire,” which is most likely the home of the grape variety most likely to be served slightly too warm at a team-building work function around the holidays in america.

thistle leaves

grass lake regional trail, saint paul, minnesota

we spend so much time every year talking about all of the ways the weather has conspired to make life miserable. polar vortexes, silver dollar hail, 30 below windchill, 100 degree august afternoons, flash floods, and droughts. i’m going to take a moment to acknowledge one of the finest summers for growing things that i can remember. we have had regular soaking rains, moderate and consistent temperatures, and sunny days. and the upper midwest has responded by imitating a temperate rain forest. this photo represents the bounty harvested from a brief 30 minute forage in a local park. the weather is fine. wish you were here.

lake johanna park, arden hills, minnesota

i can’t     s t  o p      l   o  o  k    i    n    g         a     t            t      h    e          c        e         n          t         e          r             help.

snow white gerbera daisy

 

 

there is an insidious tendency to mistake the abundance of seasonal flowers and fruits for a promise of permanency. “mom, you have to check out the irises along the dock,” said both of my kids, for several days. “they’re everywhere,” they said. and since they were everywhere, that meant i had plenty of time to get down there for a photo. but i didn’t have plenty of time. that’s what seasonal means.

northern blue flag iris

turtle lake, saint paul, minnesota