The human female is becoming a bit concerned because she hasn’t seen any of her rare flowers yet. I think it is one of those things, though, that you have to see the first one, and then, once your eye is trained, you start to see them everywhere.
Augh! Now she’s squealing abominably. I suppose that means she’s spotted some. Yes, there they are, hiding in the tall grass.
Sigyn says she has learned how to tell the rare ones from the common ones. The flowers can be the same color on both, but the common ones have wider leaves, and the flowers have almost no stalk at all. It’s an over-all thickish sort of plant.
The rare ones have very narrow leaves and long flower stalks, so that the whole plant is open and airy, sort of tricky to spot if it’s not in flower.
There are some differences in the flowers, too, but you have to be as big a plant nerd as the human female to understand. I don’t pretend to, nor do I listen when she rattles on and on about “anther placement” and “calyx sinuses” and “stigma color.” As Future Ruler of Midgard, such details are beneath my notice. I’ll have minions for that.
Odin’s eyepatch! Now that she’s spotted them, the human female now proposes to walk over every inch of the outcrop and count the rare plants. I don’t know whether to hope that there aren’t very many this year so that this will all be over quickly, or to hope that the rare plant is having a good year, even knowing that it will mean listening to the idiot woman try to remember what comes after “threety-eleven.”
This is, unfortunately, going to involve some clambering. Sigyn insists on doing it all herself.
But my love, would you not appreciate a magical boost? Maybe just a little one?
(a bit later)
We have reached the top and completed our survey, having counted about one hundred plants, which makes this a good-ish year, though not a great one. Now we are free to look about at other members of the flora.
This wafer-ash is also known as hop tree, presumably because of the flat fruits. (Apparently someone thought it looked like beer-brewing hops and the name stuck. I don’t see it myself.)
It is very good for dangling, though the foliage is looking rather tattered. The human female says this tree is a relative of oranges and lemons and, as such, is considered yummy by the giant swallowtail caterpillar. Sigyn says she would like to see one of those caterpillars. However, they are camouflaged to look like bird droppings, and I’ve no real desire to go poking piles of bird poop to see which ones are wiggly and have legs.
But here is a good one for you, love! (No poop-poking required!)
I actually learned this one because it has such marvelous horns. It is the larval stage of the pipevine swallowtail. It ought to be munching on pipevine; I’ve no idea what it thinks it is doing with this greenthread.
There really is a splendid view from up here. I can see a good portion of the county, though the removal of a few junipers would improve the vista even more.
Sigyn and the human female are still oohing and aahing and speaking in slanty names, enthusing over fall favorites such as this blue sage.
I, on the other hand, propose to divest myself of my hot and heavy (though noble!) helmet and relax on this pat of moss while they fossick about.
Who knows? I might even doze. Being magnificent and knowledgeable about caterpillars is hard work. Wake me when it is time to go home.