Autumn Whites

Autumn Whites . . .

White Aster & Snakeroot (Manhattan, NYC, 11 2016)

White Aster & Snakeroot
(Manhattan, NYC, 11 2016)

Russet variation of deciduous oaks and maples see their feet dressed in filigree of wildflower white as sparse as lace, or as morning frost on lawn, or the first accumulated dusting of flurries.

Friends appear like snowflakes clung to a window. … ”

Lines of poems shaped like prose recited aloud in the out of doors can be a symptom, if one allows it, of mind, perhaps your own, ruminating, meeting, encountering such attractive intersections of nature and the city.

Here it remains, on the west side of Manhattan, where civil island meets tidal river at a time when sun sets are fast and temperatures bring a shiver.

The cold months are hinted on the rippled gray sky, felt on the wind, not far.

– rPs 11 21 2016

 

Postscript: Thanksgiving is on the menu. Centerpiece: Wildflower White (Asteraceae, various)

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Top to Bottom

Top to Bottom . . .

October: Rainy Dayflower Impressionism (NYC 10 2016)

October: Rainy Dayflower Impressionism
(NYC 10 2016)

Clouds deliver rainwater to Manhattan today. Urban Autumn scenes inspire peculiar poetry. An asiatic dayflower (Commelina communis) reminds all of the blues of The Fall. Lines influenced still by the Wildflowers of the West Village . . .

 

The mountaintop,
Being a tip,
Sits lonely.

One who there sits,
Gets it in,
Obviously.

The plateau,
So wide,
So preferred;

Has lost its head,
Lopped off,
Clean cut, carved.

So,
Where is
The tip?

Is it lost,
Did it go,
Did it slip?

With masses
Beyond glasses
Glued to all them,

Here we are,
Not so far,
Near the bottom.

End

– rPs 10 21 2016

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Cracked: The City’s Micro-Yards

Cracked: The City’s Micro-Yards . . .

Purslane Portrait (NYC 09 2016)

Purslane Portrait
(NYC 09 2016)

Heat waves do not break, or crack. Most linger in an ebb and flow cycle of several oscillations. The chain of days bends rather than breaks and may linger for several warm weather months before an abrupt push of colder autumn air arrives and a new fall pattern takes root.

One city immigrant thrives in the late summer heat and light. This plant slips into a narrow growing place. The most minuscule of front yards, the intersection of sidewalk and foundation.

The city’s micro-yard is a distinct slit of soil, enough to conjure up a plant. The setting conveys little moisture or nutrients. Exposure, whether rain, wind, dog, or human traffic, is often constant.

Purslane is one New York resident that resists and emerges with an appearance of pride. Sprouts in snippets may form a single community chain if left to alone to grow. Many such gatherings follow the intersection of where we live meets where we walk. Manhattan’s entire west side hosts Portulaca oleracea, the purslane much mentioned as cuisine.

Purslane Community (NYC 09 2016)

Purslane Community
(NYC 09 2016)

Central Asia was the more arid land from which this immigrant annual arrived. The semiarid conditions of its origin explain how thin spots of loose soil found among rocks finds a parallel in the big city crack in the masonry.

“(I’m Looking For) Cracks in the Pavement” . . . a song by Duran Duran, a spot where just enough water supports this plant replete with interior moisture. The red stems and teardrop uniform green leaves, fleshy and juiced. A passing glance gives one reminiscences of Grandma’s household jade plant in miniature.

Urban Forager, author Ava Chin, knows from her own experience what has sprouted from Staten Island, Brooklyn, and Manhattan. I’m sure Queens and The Bronx sustains wild specimens, too. She appreciates the humor in a turn of phrase. One as good as a “From Sidewalk Cracks, a Side Dish” indeed also reinforces the concept of the crack, the often occurring ultimate micro-yard that supports a harvestable, therefore worthy, immigrant wild plant.

The analogy can be extended, if one likes such pursuits.

Ava’s book, Eating Wildly: Foraging for Life, Love, and the Perfect Meal, has just been released in paperback. Purslane thrives within its pages as it can be a true vegetable, rightful status for the purslane, which can add viscosity and a tang reminiscent of spinach to a variety of dishes.

Eating Wildly: Foraging for Life, Love and the Perfect Meal by Ava Chin

Eating Wildly: Foraging for Life, Love and the Perfect Meal by Ava Chin

Allusion to “Reminiscence” three times in one stretch of prose hints the time must be shifting to the one that often conveys life in that way. Autumn is near, but not quite here. People strive. Wildflowers bloom.

– rPs 09 12-13 2016

Postscript: Read Ava Chin’s recipe for purslane for The New York Times: http://cityroom.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/07/10/urban-forager-from-sidewalk-cracks-a-side-dish/comment-page-1/?_r=0

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Ten Days in August

Ten Days in August . . .

Ganoderma (NYC 08 19 2016)

Ganoderma
(NYC 08 19 2016)

Time enough makes enough time past for the passing eye to perceive a growth surge in a fresh Ganoderma attached to a tree on a Manhattan side street.
The bracket fungi generate and expresses a repeated series of shelves ascending or descending . Rippled by the environment, these waves of growth are beautifully expressed. The sharp color contrast of the edge to the body clearly communicates an understanding of balance. Each one may be likened to the ring on a tree. The cycle appears more frequently than a year and may mark dry and wet periods of slow or vigorous growth.

Ganoderma (NYC 08 29 2016)

Ganoderma
(NYC 08 29 2016

This time marks the middle age of summer. Green has gone to the tired end of the spectrum as if some gray had been added from age, dust, a face exposed to the city. The bright and dry days of summer’s middle age give clearance at the end of a serious wave of high humidity in increased heat.
Clear air gives the spread of an individual Marestail grace to remain green from the available water. Individual Conyza canadensis hold beauty upright in tall symmetry dressed in green stalks and a filigree of white.
A clear face as the milk white Convolvulaceae. Bindweed sits bright before leaves sharp as a lancet, another allusion to Ages Middle like time Yore and ways Olde.

– rPs 08 30 2016

Postscript: More on Marestail: https://wildflowersofthewestvillage.com/2010/11/09/the-mares-tail/
and Bindweed: https://wildflowersofthewestvillage.com/2010/10/08/blooms-that-bind/

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What’s The Big Stink?

What’s The Big Stink? . . .

Skunk Cabbage April 2014

Vase on the Forest Floor: Symplocarpus. This North American native is stinky, too. (NYC, April)

Flower in the news . . . Flower in the news in New York City:

What’s the Big Stink?

Good News about to bloom:

My friends at the New York Botanical Garden have enjoyed sharing a rare moment with a most distinctive flowering plant:

Amorphophallus titanum is set to bloom.

 

“What’s the Big Stink?” When the plant flowers the source of that classic phrase may be known.

One may first hear a name: The Corpse Flower.

Omen? As it may have been when one last bloomed in NYC in 1939? Perhaps.

Magnificent? Certain. The scale, the distinctiveness of size and aroma of this plant nurtured “a decade in the making” has, for all that time, communicated enough to us to garner human attention and celebration.

“Bravo!” to . . . THE BLOOM.

— rPs 07 27 2016

 

Postscript: Visit the New York Botanical Garden and view the Corpse Flower Cam by following this link: NYBG/125  http://www.nybg.org/exhibitions/2016/corpse-flower.php

 

One may also visit in the field the somewhat similar, and indigenous, Skunk Cabbage , Symplocarpus, across the New York City area in March:  https://wildflowersofthewestvillage.com/2016/03/21/anniversary-spring/

 

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American for French

American for French . . .

 

A NYC daily newspaper headline stated the fact:AGAIN. Here today this American’s Red, White, and Blue supports the Bleu, Blanc et Rouge.

 

BLUE Chickory 07 2016

BLEU (Chichorium intybus 07 2016)

 

WHITE Catalpa 06 2016

WHITE (Catalpa speciosa NYC 07 2016)

 

ROUGE Duo Sumac 07 2016

ROUGE (Rhus glabra 07 2016)

— rPs 07 15 2016

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Second Half Fireworks

Second Half Fireworks . . .

 

Sumac Candle Panicle NYC 07 2016

Candle Flame: Sumac, genus Rhus, begins to bloom. (NYC 07 10 2016)

 

Again my head turns toward the Sumac. The flowering tree’s form has by its distinction in Autumn and Winter been visited before. Trees that flower and fruit are the largest of the Wildflowers of the West Village in scale. The dimensions of their blooms, often in multitudes, remains modest, gives scent, sweet aroma, to the watered cleansed air flowing off the Hudson.  Genus Rhus by its panicles stands on a pinnacle point within the five boroughs.

July begins the second half of the calendar year. The candle flame panicles of the Sumac catch fire in step with the traditional fireworks at the start of month. Army green trees in a blink flame on with a rich blend of reds. Trees from a distance advertise their berries. The panicles from that vantage look like berry dots across fixed fields of green. “Berries Offered Here” the message seems to say. Many of Manhattan’s birds, native American Robin and immigrant European Starling, feast here. So may humanity. The spikes, or panicles, will evolve by Autumn into ripe dense clusters of russet berries capable of a fine brewed cold press beverage.

 

Sumac Rhus NYC 07 2016

“Berries Offered Here” (NYC 07 2016)

 

For now, though, that beverage is something best served with, or as, ice. Hot summer for the wildflowers and their appreciators has arrived: the fires of July.

– rPs 07 11 2016

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