Today, our first good walk in three
days (the dogs and I a bit rain-shy), I
made a mental note to mow the front lawn.
But first I needed to take a better look at the grasses before mowing
them down. That led to the idea to
attend to grasses on our walk. A fair
number of grasses are in flower, and more have finished flowering and are setting
fruit.
The grass above is still in flower; you can just make out the stamens dangling from diminutive flowers.
The grass below is finished flowering, and its fruit developing.
Passers-by watched a strange guy crouch
on the sidewalk with a camera intent on who-knows-what, while two small dogs
tugged at their leashes. The movement of
the delicate stalks with the slightest breeze made the photography challenging;
and I quickly decided on plan B: pick a few stalks of whatever looked
different, and add it to the growing bouquet in my shirt pocket. (The stranger with camera and dogs got stranger still.)
I lay my finds on the
kitchen table, trying to eliminate repeats.
I still find it a little amazing how many different grasses my little
suburban neighborhood hosts. Even the
most manicured of lawns usually has a neglected corner--a bit of wild that begins
to redeem the property in my eyes.
The entire pocket collection. A dozen-odd species, I think.
Close-ups.
What are their names, you might
ask? I don't know myself. Call them Tom, Dick, Harry, Hermione... Their being matters more than their names,
after all--just as yours does. But familiarity is difficult
without a "handle"--just as it is in learning people.
So it might be time to brush-up
on grass ID. Subject for a future post,
perhaps?
