usually when i walk it is just the dog and i. we walk in silence. jack’s nose and my eyes both on high alert. recently, my friend kristin has been joining us once a week.  the last time we walked, we happened upon these flicker feathers.  they weren’t exactly in a pretty little pile for us. they were scattered about and happened, as you all now know, to look exactly like the yellow willow, oak, walnut, ash, and birch leaves littering the edge of the trail. i found one. then another. and then i just knew. i must have looked like a hunting dog on a scent trail. i started walking in tight circles. eyes fixed on the ground. i began muttering to myself about a how someone had lost a struggle here last night. and slowly but surely i found over two dozen feathers. my friend kristin, finely broke my concentration when she announced “walking with you is like watching a csi movie.”

northern flicker feathers

vadnais lake trail, saint paul, minnesota

p.s. about that log lady… not yet. not yet.

i was a reluctant and slow joiner, but for now i am all in on instagram. i have found it it a rewarding way to kill those 5 minute waits that seem to pepper any given day.  recently, while browsing in the car between my arrival at my son’s school and the bell for dismissal, i came upon the feed of two makers in australia, lucy and lily, who go by the name of @peachesandkeen.  they started making patterns with plants that sort of blew me away. so, good artistic thief that i am, i tried my hand. i like how it turned out. i like it a lot, actually. but i have to admit, in the end it looks more like an imitation than not.  sometimes, when i see something inspiring like that, my attempt to imitate it ends up so different from the original that it becomes something of my own, influenced by the original, but at the same time something new. in this case, i respectfully cede the floor to lucy and lily, who are doing something i have failed to appropriate, and have only managed to imitate. in other words, bravo @peachesandkeen.

assemblage of late september wildflower bits and pieces

saint paul, minnesota

i am back in the habit of daily walks, and back in conversation with my surroundings. we missed each other. today, these seed heads talked to me in morse code. they talked about art. we didn’t chat for long.

(don’t worry, i promise i am not turning into the twin peaks log lady.)

seed heads

sucker lake regional trail, saint paul, minnesota

there is some strength here. some joining together. a few interesting ragged edges. an arm-in-arm, take-it-for-what-it-is unity. a whole that might outlast the individual parts. it is my 25th wedding anniversary.

woven daylily leaves

saint paul, minnesota

my daughter and i are sparring right now over what her college resume ought to look like. she keeps wanting to add things to her c.v. thinking that it will look good to have been widely involved in school activities and her community. i keep saying that doing a lot of things sort-of well is worse than doing a few things really well. maybe i’ll show her this snapping turtle, whose ancestors were paddling around shallow ponds when antarctica and australia were still connected and something called the alps began rising up just north of something that would later be called the mediterranean sea. the snapping turtle is really good at snapping prey with its beak, and it has sharp claws and a hard shell. if i had a little snapper who was preparing to submit an application to evolutionary university, i wouldn’t recommend that she attempt to take up ballroom dancing, or go on a mission trip to haiti, or join the debate team. i would recommend that she emphasize her quite excellent skills at snapping prey, and defending herself with sharp claws and a hard shell. that’s all i’m saying.

snapping turtle hatchling

sucker lake regional trail, saint paul, minnesota