As promised . . .

So, to pick up where we left off in the previous post, Miss Sadie, the Cowboy and I had some lovely walks earlier this week before the press of other business distracted us.  Down on the beach we found lots of wildflowers: spotted knapweed, common tansy, Queen Anne’s Lace, yarrow, white sweet clover, bladder campion, crown vetch, St. Johnswort, and this Very Sharp Bull Thistle . . .

Walking back on the road we found chicory, mullein, more Queen Anne’s Lace, more thistles.  The Cowboy managed to bring home a load of those in his curly fur, so then we had a nice little brushing session.

As I looked up the flowers to make sure I would tell you the truth, I learned this and that.  For one thing, Queen Anne’s Lace and Water Hemlock look somewhat alike, but, according to my favorite guide in these matters, Stan Tekiela, Water Hemlock is “by far the most poisonous plant in Michigan.”  He goes on to say that the taproot “smells and tastes like carrot, but just a small amount will lead to convulsions and death.”  Now what I want to know is, how does he know how it tastes?

I checked up on the milkweed patches, knowing that you were just waiting to hear what happened with the monarch. Well, one day I actually spotted a single monarch caterpillar munching away. Naturally that was the day I forgot to bring the camera. I’ve gone back twice to try to find it, to no avail. But trust me, there was one there. It looked just like the one in the picture on the left that I downloaded from Kidzone with permission. 

One of the sources I looked at, Monarch Butterfly USA, says the life cycle of monarchs lasts just 6-8 weeks, except for the fourth generation. That fourth generation, the one that hatches on Grand Traverse Bay in September, is the one that migrates all the way to Mexico, where it hibernates for the winter. Then it awakens in the spring, mates, begins the flight northward, deposits eggs, and dies, while the cycle goes on. Does the butterfly know any of this stuff?  Because then how does it feel about being, say, the third generation? And the other thing – how does the fourth generation know how to get from the Bay to Mexico? These are the things that occupy my mind when I ought to be thinking about other things.

From the milkweed patch we went over to the Wilkinson Homestead to look at the gardens.  I love the hollyhocks.  They’re such an old-fashioned flower – I remember them from my grandmother’s garden when I was very little, and that was quite a good while ago.  As we scouted the grounds, I realized how much work the Motterns have been doing to keep it all watered.  More to follow on the Wilkinson Wishing (for a) Well fund raiser!  (And Betty Beeby says I am to put the date in bold so that you will see and remember so here it is: Saturday, August 23, 2008.)  If you attend the fund raiser, you can tour the museum, see the exhibit of rare early 20th century photos, taste some authentic Eastport Ladies Delicacies from authentic recipes we saved from the backs of General Mills flour and Land O’ Lakes butter when we were young brides, and explore the nature trail. 

I have a confession to make.  While I was scouting the nature trail, I found a golf ball.  I thought, “Huh, that’s odd.  Kids playing around.”  I picked it up and continued.  Another one.  “Careless kids.”  I picked that one up too.  A third one.  Hmmm.  It crossed my mind that these golf balls had been placed very carefully to mark Something Important.  OK, I left the rest in place and skedaddled for home, guilty golf balls clunking in my pocket.  Loraine, if you’ll meet me over there I’ll put ’em back where I found ’em . . . if you can show me where I found ’em . . .