Late Bloomer
- At August 30, 2010
- By Dian Day
- In The Big Backyard
0
At the beginning of June the paths and clearings were carpeted in thousands of tiny white blossoms, but we were kept away from the berries by swarms of black flies. At the end of August, a single wild strawberry blossom appears on the path, minus one of its petals. I don’t know whether it is this little plant’s second attempt at making a strawberry, or whether it just wasn’t mature enough in the spring to produce a flower. Whichever the case, and however misshapen the berry, I will pick and eat it with gratitude.
Mushroom Season
- At August 27, 2010
- By Dian Day
- In The Big Backyard
- 1
Everywhere I look these days there are mushrooms: yellow and white and brown and red, squat and gangly, glistening and dusty—a hundred varieties, and almost none can I identify. There is so much unknown in the world. It is easy to think that if we could only name things, we would know them… know their properties, their inner secrets, their inherent purpose, whether healthful or harmful to humans. As if by naming everything else we would know our own place in the world.
Ant Farm
- At August 25, 2010
- By Dian Day
- In The Big Backyard
- 2
The ants gather and protect the aphids, and milk them of honeydew. In the winter, they will carry the aphid eggs back to their underground nests and keep them safe until they hatch in the spring, when they will once again be put out to pasture on the branch of a tree, in their hundreds and thousands. I know humans are supposed to be the only creatures who think, but how could we think that this could happen without the ants ever thinking?
Frog Puddle
- At August 18, 2010
- By Dian Day
- In The Big Backyard
- 0
There is a rut in the road that has been wet all summer—sometimes it is filled with murky water three or four inches deep, sometimes just an inch of rich mud lies in the hollow. Of course, the dogs run through it every time we climb the hill, playing chase with the extra excitement of flying dirt, splashing sounds, and swampy smell. Today, after they’ve gone by, a small green head appears to watch their departure, warily, trying to make sense of the destruction wrought by this terrible act of god.
Branch and Tree
- At August 17, 2010
- By Dian Day
- In The Big Backyard
- 0
For months I have been walking past an oak on the hill path, looking up among the tops of spruces to search vainly for the tree that sent this arm out to bask in the sun. Finally, I look down to find the place where the branch meets the trunk, and discover this is the whole oak tree, growing parallel to the ground, contrary to gravity. I take this as a sign that in the darkness, even the laws of nature can be overridden to find the light.