The thin white toothed asters have gone to seed head within
the past few days. There are places along the road where only a month ago the
white petals dominated so, that it was easy to imagine the ditches were covered
in a sparse dusting of snow. Now there are tiny puff balls of seeds, each like
small dandelion heads clustered among the browning foliage that was green only
yesterday, it seems.
Take a
stick and quickly swing through a grouping of them, and watch as hundreds of
blowies take to the air, bound for wherever the wind disperses them. It looks
like a miniature snow globe, where the seeds flit about in the light breeze
then settle in layers one on top another upon the ground.
The
milkweed pods too have dried and opened, spilling forth thousands of seeds
which simply await the wind to carry them aloft. There is a large grouping near
the north stone wall of the arm, with pods that dangle open and clusters of
silken seeds ready. Many have simply fallen to the ground below in clumps of
white brought down by the weight of the misty rain two days ago.
Those
that remain cling yet to the pod husk, drying in the frosted morning and
awaiting the building breeze which will carry them skyward.
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