Waxing Rhapsodic

I have so much to tell you about the last two weeks, but neither the time nor the right words at this moment. So, instead I am going to flash back to several weeks ago when I went out to try to pick the last of the blackberries. I went out as the sun was just coming up and making the dew rise into steam above the fields.

There were barely enough berries to fill a tall glass. The sudden blast of heat after so much rain and cool and dried many of them to crusty nubs still on the vine. And the remainder were being snacked on by June bugs and Japanese beetles.

But as I went down the fence rows I was delighted to see that the sumac was coming along beautifully! Isn't that the most gorgeous wine color? Soon they will mature to a blood red and I will pick them for Sumac Lemonade, see my post HERE. But I am also thinking of making some of the juice into jelly this year. It is such a clear pink color, and has such a nice flavor. And I think folks might find it fun to try something new.

There was very little berry picking to be done, but I still spend well over an hour in the field. I couldn't walk a step without seeing something so beautiful that I felt it needed to be captured in pictures. Many times in my life I have been without a camera and desperately wanted to preserve a scene. I try to think of my eyes as the camera, and imagine the scene being captured into my mind and filed safely away. Sherlock Holmes described his mind almost like a tidy filing cabinet, where he could go to look things up when needed. I am afraid my mind is not that tidy, nor my senses acute enough to preserve the vision well enough. And so I take way too many pictures.

The dew was heavy and when the light touched the stems of grass they looked coated with nodules of ice.

A sparkly little fairy path...

And every single web was delineated by the minutest of drops, so they shone.

The spider below was the undisputed king of the meadow. No other web had half as many insects as he did. I wonder how long it took him to find that perfect location.

Here are rank stands of Joe Pye weed, adding glory to the meadow and thrilling the hearts of bees.

The plant below is water-frosted so that it looks plated in a thin coating of silver. A humble weed made grand.

A beautiful double web. The work of one over-achieving spider, or a condo of sorts for two arachnids?

A tunnel just big enough for foxes, skunks, raccoons, rabbits and possums to make their way through the field without having to break new trails through the thick grass. A critter highway, if you will.

The sun has washed the pale lavender of this Deadly Nightshade bloom to near white. Behind it are the pendulous little fruits coming to bear. Just two of these berries, which will turn an appealing shade of yellow, can kill a child. Multiply that and they can kill an adult. Potatoes and tomatoes are in the same family and have nearly identical flowers. No wonder it took people so long to decide those plants were edible!

Here is a cheerful wild sunflower patch with a Viceroy butterfly camouflaged within.

You never know what you will see on a walk in the country. Here is the husk of an armadillo as emptied of life as a deflated balloon.

I am showing you this picture of a clump of items I found in this same field years ago. I found it just like this, and have kept it all together to remember it. We simply don't have many crows here. I see more in towns than I do out here. And whilst I may hear one occasionally, I never seen them. So the fact that this crow foot was simply laying there, clean and dried, was already mysterious and magical. But the clump with it was simply artful. There are some who would say it looks like some sort of witches token, or something foolish like that. I have always believed that God leaves us gifts, big and small, though sometimes we never see them or are grateful. The obvious ones are answers to prayers, or having something fantastic happen, like an unexpected trip. It's the small ones that happen every day that you have to open your eyes for. Four-leafed clovers, rainbows, a heart-shaped stone, or even a crow's foot nested on some lovely weeds. I took it for what it was, a beautiful gift, left for me if I had eyes to see the wonder of it. 

And so now you may see why this post has it's particular name. I read way too much poetry and British classics as a child, and the phrase "waxing rhapsodic" is one that I actually use. It means to be enraptured, or "to grow more emotional and enthusiastic in one's speech." A simple walk in the countryside does that to me; every common thing becomes a jewel in a treasure box, just waiting to be discovered. So, forgive me, Dear Reader, if I have to gush about it.

And finally I head homeward, behind the abandoned house, through the gate, and over the fence. And as I turn to look back over the field, the sun has risen fully. The dew and mist are gone, and from a distance it looks like ordinary acres of grass. But I know better...