A robust flock of Wild Turkeys 🦃 suddenly appear as I head out early this morning.
A good omen.
Heard in the night some vocalizations sounding like a mix of a peacock scream, coyotes yelping and chickens. Pretty sure it was the turkey herd.
It’s a fine cloudy day thus far with moisture in the air and a coolness rarely found in mid August. Heading out down a favorite shady lane where I last saw a doe among the young pine grove. When I stopped and spoke to her, she simply lay down and began her siesta, even though I was only about 8 ft. from her.
Green, green O green they say
On the far side of the hill
Green, green I’m going away
To where the grass is greener still.
Summer’s End or Samhain (Sow-en) is starting to show in the wild places…
Weather report for next week: possibility of rainstorms with highs in 80s.
Rose Hips! At long last. They will be sweeter after the first frost when the hips turn a darker red.
Shown here growing amongst the purple Bittersweet Nightshade, abundant about Washington state, especially around marshes and boggy areas. Do not eat…it was a favorite poison of kings used against their rivals, as when Macbeth of Scotland poisoned an army of Danes. Also in witches flying ointment, as well as used by Italian women to dilate pupils, enhancing their beauty: belladonna.
Synchronicity: Last night I was listening to Strange Familiars podcast featuring Jeff from Ontario who experienced a weird cryptid whilst out picking rose hips!
No harm came to him, but the creature was so odd that he dared not turn his back on it, but simply backed away, walking backwards out of there!
Entire podcast is worth a listen, but this particular tale begins about
Ahh, here is a nice change of space. On west side of town near me
known as Browne’s Addition, the oldest part of city.
And this is the view just behind the wee pond…near Indian Canyon where Latah Creek joins with the Spokane River.
Unique statue. That fox wouldn’t stand for it in real life. Interesting horse carving on stag’s flank.
At Northwest Museum of Arts and Culture.
……….
September now.
We are finally getting a bit of smoke from western OR and WA, as well as ID and Canada.
Glad that summer is nearing an end and there will be rain soon.
Tell-tale autumnal foliage creeping in like the Horseman into the Hollow…
A residence in oldest part of Spokane, not
far from where I go marketing.
Which brings us to Summerween in Sleepy Hollow…
Let us join Jonas and Lindsay in Sleepy Hollow to help celebrate Summerween!
Mushrooms and nightshade and cat tails, O my…
Nightshade lush amid cat tails. !!! Beware of red berries growing among rose hips…
September 14th and RAIN ☔️!
Last day of rain was July 15th so only August was a month without rain.
And, thankfully, the smoke is finally clearing out.
So glad that happened in late summer and lasted only 3 days.
Last night I heard my first 🦉 OWL call here in WA, around 4:30 a.m.
Sounded just like the owl that sat outside my window in CA.
Maybe she followed me?
A low to mid-range: Hooo, hoo hoo. A long hooo, followed by a couple of short hoos.
Could be a Great Grey or Great Horned owl.
No, no, go not to Lethe, neither twist Wolf's-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine; Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kiss'd By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine; Make not your rosary of yew-berries, Nor let the beetle, nor the death-moth be Your mournful Psyche, nor the downy owl A partner in your sorrow's mysteries; For shade to shade will come too drowsily, And drown the wakeful anguish of the soul.
“Myths, legends, and fables frequently tell us more about the human race than studying history does." G.K. Chesterton said . And: 'Fable is more historical than fact'’
Liath Wolf features wond’rous legends of auld Scotland.
(Very inconsistent blog post due to vagaries in computer, or possibly boggarts. Or
Goblins…
Keeps switching to code and back, nearly lost entire page, but that’s Aug. 12th
for you…)
Goblin Market
September soon. With fall comes the witching season — and cool breezes at last.
A bit of Rossetti’s Goblin Market to get in the mood…
Goblin Market tells the adventures of two close sisters, Laura and Lizzie, with the river goblins.
Although the sisters seem to be quite young, they live by themselves in a house, and draw water every evening from a stream. As the poem begins, the sisters hear the calls of the goblin merchants selling their fantastic fruits in the twilight. On this evening, Laura, intrigued by their strangeness, lingers at the stream after her sister goes home. (Rossetti hints that the "goblin men" resemble animals with faces like wombats or cats, and with tails.) Longing for the goblin fruits but having no money, the impulsive Laura offers to pay a lock of her hair and "a tear more rare than pearl."
Laura gorges on the delicious fruit in a sort of bacchic frenzy. Once finished, she returns home in an ecstatic trance, carrying one of the seeds. At home, Laura tells her sister of the delights she indulged in, but Lizzie is "full of wise upbraidings," reminding Laura of Jeanie, another girl who partook of the goblin fruits, and then died at the beginning of winter after a long and pathetic decline. Strangely, no grass grows over Jeanie's grave. Laura dismisses her sister's worries, and plans to return the next night to get more fruits for herself and Lizzie. The sisters go to sleep in their shared bed.
The next day, as Laura and Lizzie go about their housework, Laura dreamily longs for the coming meeting with the goblins. That evening, however, as she listens at the stream, Laura discovers to her horror that, although her sister still hears the goblins' chants and cries, she cannot.
“We must not look on goblin men
We must not buy their fruits
Who knows upon what soil they fed
Their hungry thirsty roots”
Illustration by Arthur Rackham ‘Ware the River Goblins….
Unable to buy more of the forbidden fruit, Laura sickens and pines for it. As winter approaches, she withers and ages unnaturally, too weak to do her chores. One day she remembers the saved seed and plants it, but nothing grows.
Months pass, and Lizzie realises that Laura is wasting to death. Lizzie resolves to buy some of the goblin fruit for Laura. Carrying a silver penny, Lizzie goes down to the brook and is greeted warmly by the goblins, who invite her to dine. But when the merchants realise that she has no intent to eat the fruit, and only intends to pay in silver, they attack, trying to feed her their fruits by force. Lizzie is drenched with the juice and pulp, but consumes none of it.
Lizzie escapes and runs home, but when the dying Laura eats the pulp and juice from her body, the taste repulses rather than satisfies her, and she undergoes a terrifying paroxysm.
By morning, however, Laura is fully restored to health. The last stanza attests that both Laura and Lizzie live to tell their children of the evils of the goblins' fruits, and the power of a bond between sisters.
From Goblin Market a poem by Christina Rossetti.
Illustration for the cover of Christina Rossetti's Goblin Market and Other Poems (1862), by her brother Dante Gabriel Rossetti