Long-time minions may recall that Sigyn and I used to favor a walk to the small pond that used to be in our neighborhood. You may also recall that some money-grubbing developer from the Big City to the South came and bulldozed away that pond to build some Large, Ugly Apartments. I swore, then, that I would get back at him someday. Sigyn can’t go past the place without mourning a little, for the trees and the turtles.
NO ONE makes my Sigyn cry and goes unpunished.
Today, on our morning walk, we have spotted what looks like a little trail that runs between the Large, Ugly Apartments and a small, remaining bit of woodland that’s too wild and wet to develop. I believe it’s supposed to be a private walking path for the sole use of the residents of the LUA.
It is, therefore, very much in the spirit of a big, nose-thumbing neener-neener-neener that we are taking this path, to thoroughly enjoy whatever we can spot in the woods by its side. (Since the human female is once again stumping about with her foot in an aircast boot, she is not very keen on going out to larger, wetter, muddier woods. Sigyn and I may have to go without her. We miss the sedge meadow.)
These are some very dense woods, and they go right up to the edge of the sidewalk. There are all sorts of things in the understory–hollies, beautyberries, sumac, saplings of oak and elm, and something–look, Sigyn! Do you see that small tree with white—
… flowers? Well, that didn’t take long. She scurried up that thing like she was greeting an long-lost friend. And, in a sense, I suppose she is, since farkleberry is an old and dear acquaintance. It’s good to know there are still some in the neighborhood.
Stump. Pause. Stump. Pause. Stump. Pause. Norns’ nighties, woman! You are slow enough in the boot, do you have to stop and look at every single blossom, as well?
I haven’t had my breakfast yet, and I might be a tad impatient. But Sigyn’s having fun, so I will do my best to quiet my rumbly tummy and resign myself to our positively doddering pace.
I suppose this is a good place to walk. There are purple spiderworts at the edge of the treeline and some wood sorrel and–sniff, sniff!–something very fragrant up ahead.
Sigyn is delighted since it smells so good, and I’m delighted because the human female loathes the stuff. Not only is it an invasive exotic, she says, but even though the nectar is supposed to be sippable, she tried it once and spent the rest of the night puking. Ehehehe! I’d have paid money to see that. I wonder if the nectar is detectable if mixed into, say, lemonade?
Great Frigga’s corset! What is that?
The flowers make a double spiral up the stem.
Oh, right. Sigyn, do you remember when we saw the orchids on your favorite outcrop in the next county over? I think these may be something similar. Go stand next to some for scale.
Well, I suppose dangling is as good as standing…
The human female says they are called “greenvein ladies’ tresses”, on account of the green veins on the lower lip of each blossom. What a fun find!
I shall place a protection spell on all of the pretty white flowers we’ve found this morning (yes, mortal, even the honeysuckle), and a spell of crabgrass, grubs, and pestilence on the boring mowed lawn of the LUA just on the other side of the path.
And I shall not leave unscathed the LUA’s gaudy advertising, afflicting all of their golden “permanent” balloons with an irreversible case of flopsia.