The recent local weather (hot cold hot cold rainy sunny cold hot again), while making wardrobe deliberations a maddening ordeal with at best a 50-50 percent chance of success, have had an unexpected effect. The local flora, famous for not giving a fig for seasonal expectations and remaining green until January, has decided, for once, to oblige Sigyn’s longing for a colored autumn.
We have therefore embarked upon a tour of the yard, the surrounding neighborhood, and the park at the end of the street, in order to take in all the offerings on this bright and sunny afternoon.
woolly bucket or gum bumelia (both ludicrous names)
upland swamp privet (an oxymoron if I ever heard one)
ditto (can you tell Sigyn really likes holly?)
a whole galaxy of asters (Time for a little rest. Dangling is hard work)
poison ivy (Go on, human female, pat the pretty plant!)
copperleaf (Aptly named, I’d say.)
yet more elms
many shot of a truly splendid farkleberry
They say some medieval craftsman invented stained glass. I’m not so sure.