a tragedy, then a gift

My friend Kristin has (had?) a robin that makers a nest every year over the light at the entryway to her house. Interestingly, my Mom has the same thing. This year, Kristin’s robin made her nest, laid this vibrant clutch of four eggs, and then went missing never to return. Today, Kristin finally took the nest down and brought me the eggs. The beauty is–once again–overwhelming to me. I am so sad these eggs didn’t get a chance to hatch, and I am so grateful to have gotten this close-up look at such perfection. I can look at a robin’s egg and imagine the infinite.

American robin eggs (Turdus migratorius)

I am in a mood for beauty

I do not know what has gotten into me, but it suddenly feels like everything I see is almost overwhelmingly beautiful. Almost painfully beautiful. I am feeling overwhelmed by the cranes and their colts (they are giving them flying lessons daily now), by the roadside flowers (did the DOT back-off on mowing roadsides lately? It it so pretty out there), by the color of the sunsets over the lake from our north facing deck. I am sure you are thinking it is probably because we are finally back in our beloved home after a 14 months in an apartment following the fire. But I feel like more than that is going on. I feel tapped into something.

By the way, I went almost entirely media free following the fire, so perhaps that is contributing. Whatever it is, I love it.

Case in point: a single over-wintered cattail leaf bent into a pleasing curve suggesting a staff. So beautiful.
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cattail leaf (dried from being over-wintered)

Still green black walnuts

This week my husband and son are making two different black walnut liqueurs: Nocino (An Italian spirit) and Vin de Noix (A French cordial). Steve has been waiting for the young, still green, walnuts of the black walnut tree to reach a specific size for harvesting and macerating. The nuts need to be formed inside the husks but still tender enough to slice through with a knife. In southern France, Jean-Luc always harvested his walnuts (English walnuts not our native black walnuts) on La fête de la Saint-Jean, the Nativity of St. John the Baptist, which is June 24. Here in our northern climate, the nuts have just reached the right maturity this first week of July. Now we macerate for a month, and then, as Jean-Luc’s wife Nicole has told us, “The older it is the better it tastes, so be patient!”

black walnut tree leaves and nuts (Juglans nigra)

So similar I can’t tell them apart

When I picked these periwinkle pretties, I thought I was gathering chicory (non-native but tolerated). But my trusted MN Wildflowers source says it might be Showy Blue Lettuce (native) instead. It says the two plants are VERY hard to tell apart. And I have to agree. Even with a sample in my hand and multipole descriptions on the internet, I am not sure. Any experts out there?

chicory (Cichorium intybus) or showy blue lettuce (Mulgedium pulchellum) ?

Let’s take a closer look

Did you notice on yesterday’s photo the lovely mauve-colored gills on the underside of the wine cap mushrooms? I wanted to make sure you didn’t miss it. It’s unusual, unexpected, and as a result delightful.

detail of wine cap mushroom gills (Stropharia rugosoannulata)