
Look at the petals on this flower. Aren't they just about perfect? I wonder if they're edible and if they taste good. I won't get to know until next summer when the tickseed coreopsis come back in the pecan plantation.
I didn't mow these when I chased that brush cutter around part of the acre, mostly because the area where they grow is wet. But part of me just didn't want to cut the pretty flowers.
When we were last at Roundrock, all of these flowers were gone. I don't think we had a frost that would have blighted them, but maybe the air grew cool enuf one or two nights to do the job. Now, of course, the seeds are profuse, and when I walked through the scrub taking the pecan census, my pants and socks were loaded with the pointy little things.

Are we frightened yet?
Windywillow is hosting the next Festival of the Trees, and she's looking for spooky, tree-related posts and links (but she'll consider other submissions). Go
here to see her post of invitation. Note that her deadline is a little earlier than normal. She wants to have her edition up on Halloween.

Our trip to Roundrock last weekend was short of perfect because ...
We forgot to bring the 'smores fixins! I don't know how we did that since we spent a lot of time at the grocery store getting the meals figured out. Plus we had a perfect fire Saturday evening for the toasting job. Let's hope this never happens again!

Back when we first started staggering into the lake to swim, the sharp rocks on the bottom were hard on our tender feet. I chatted about it at length
here. So we began wearing old sneakers. On our latest dip in the waters, I found that the bottom of the lake to be oozy with a thick layer of silt. It was only about an inch deep -- not the thigh-deep
loathsome goo that lurks in the bottom of the small pond -- but it has obviously been building over the years. The dam builder told me that this will help seal some of the leaks, but he also told me that when the water level is high, I should open the drain valve and wash some of this silt out so that it doesn't eventually engulf the drain. I failed to remember that advice earlier in the summer when the lake
was full (twice), and now I want to keep whatever water I have so the fish will survive the winter. Such dilemmas!

On Friday and Saturday I watched the weather maps as substantial storms pounded their way across Kansas and Missouri. Yet, as I expected, when the clouds grew close to the county where Roundrock is, they parted or dissipated or turned to the north or south. I see this phenomenon all the time. Some force is preventing rain from falling and filling my diminished lake. I think it is the
meteor.
Missouri calendar:
- Average day of first frost in northern Missouri.
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October 14th, 2007 at 6:45 am
My parents took my sister and I camping when we were kids. I guess they hadn’t heard of smores because I didn’t have one until I was an adult and was turned on to them by my wife. Her family had them when they campe. We now make them every time we camp with our boys. I new thing we were turned on to is also really good. Make a slit down a banana, stuff in some marshmallows and chocolate chips, wrap it up in aluminum foil and set it close enuf to the fire so that it all gets soft, including the banana. It’s sort of like chocolate marshmallow banana pudding.
October 14th, 2007 at 10:40 am
Here on the Olympic Peninsula, we live in what’s called the “rainshadow”– the rains fall mostly on the west side of the Olympic Mountain range in the rainforest, and then dry out over the direct eastern side. Your rain dilemma makes me wonder if there are any natural barriers that might split the clouds before they hit Roundrock? Or, perhaps there is a spooky, anti-rain vortex that emanates from your property.
RCW’s recipe for bananas, marshmallows, and chocolate chips sounds delightfully sweet and mushy.
February 5th, 2010 at 4:19 pm
[...] attention on the seed head, but the soft green behind it is pleasing in its own way. (See last Sunday’s post for what I think is another pretty good example of [...]