wild asparagus

wild asparagus

ferns glow bright copper

against dried up corn

The verge between field and highway brims full of native forbs, woody plants and a sprinkling of domestic plants that have escaped back into the wild, like this asparagus. The ferny leaves that grow out of the naked green stalks have turned bright copper in autumn, giving the plant the appearance of a burning bush about to consume the dessicated corn stalks. Unfortunately, the threat of fire in the drought-dry fields is quite real. Recently, there have been several field fires in southeast Iowa, mostly in the more flammable soybean fields. A truck with a hot muffler going into a field can ignite the parched plants, and a recent spate of windy days accelerates the spread of fire. Farm equipment has to be careful driving over the wide cracks in the dry ground, which can cause a broken axle. Yesterday a sprinkling of rain gave rise to low-lying fog this morning, spreading a welcome layer of moisture, but by late morning the sun-baked fields are arid again.

a bug with white wings

a bug white wings

treks around and around its 

little golden globe

Walking around the yard today, I commiserate with the bushes and trees suffering from the drought, shriveled dark gray leaves hanging from dark stems. One of the bright spots is a tall Cornelian Cherry (Cornus Mas) covered with sweet golden globes. I circumambulate the tree, admiring the clusters of fruit hanging from pink stems, some of them growing directly out of the tree trunk. I sample a few of the orbs, dry and not as sweet as yellow cherries, but still quite tasty. Because I'm looking so closely at the little gems, I spot a small insect with white wings crawling around on one of them. It is also circumambulating, walking around and around the same globe. The insect makes a complete rotation about once every three seconds. I have plenty of time to take a series of photographs, playing with different camera settings. It seems oblivious to my presence, just keeps traipsing round and round, sometimes on the equator of its little planet, sometimes at a diagonal. I start wondering how long it's been traveling, how long it will keep on going, why it doesn't stop, what it's searching for and not finding. Imagine, this little creature has been roaming a long ways for a long time and no one bigger than a bug would even know of its peregrinations if I hadn't been peering at the cherries. While I'm musing about the secret life of insects, I get so close with my camera that the lens touches the fruit and the bug falls off. Just like that, the insect's quest ends, and I feel just a little guilty for disrupting its fruitless journey. 

three girls with balloons

three girls with balloons

leaping in the autumn leaves

at Chautauqua Park

A hot autumn Sunday at Chautauqua Park, bustling with falling leaves, black walnuts in their round, aromatic green husks, people picnicking, riding bikes, jogging, walking dogs, playing Frisbee, and just playing around. Three girls -- a redhead, a blonde and a brunette -- each with three helium balloons -- pink, blue and green, laugh as they playfully leap around in the dry leaves. When their balloons get tangled together, they stop to patiently untangle the ribbons. For them, it's just another kind of play.

rainbow circles curve

rainbow circles curve

around two girls gyrating

lit-up hoola hoops

Octoberfest in Fairfield, Iowa, crowds strolling around the town square in the warm, clear evening while a band plays in the bandstand. People waving as they ride around the square in a carriage drawn by two draft horses. Food vendors hawking everything from BBQ and brats to gelato and Ethiopian. An amazing display of pumpkins of all sizes and colors and fresh produce at a little farmer's market. Tables laden with jewelry, bamboo, folk instruments, ceramics, wood carvings. Several art galleries feature quilts, from traditional to modern. Children running around, bouncing in an enclosed, inflated trampoline, swinging in a round swing enclosed in white netting, flinging lit-up hoola hoops through the soft night air.

a crack in the concrete

a crack in the concrete

base of a post slowly pulls

apart the caulk patch

Cracks appear to be everywhere and slowly getting bigger. Narrow cracks in a wooden post and a wide crack in the concrete base. Even the long black shadows look like deep fissures in the pavement. Someone has tried to patch the break in the concrete footing, but the crack appears to be winning the tug of war with the caulking. The inexorable march of entropy, yet I am charmed by the sinuous line of the white caulk winding up through the black crack, like laugh lines on an old face.

where two highways cross

where two highways cross,

at the base of a lamppost,

a small pile of stones

and a tiny cardboard sign --

who reads the message?

At the southwest corner of the town square, Highway 1 and Highway 34 cross each other's path. In our small town this busy intersection is called Main Street and Burlington Avenue. It's a hot autumn afternoon and the sun is casting black shadows in bars across the sidewalks and streets. I am on foot, not in a hurry to get anywhere, just walking slowly, looking casually. After I cross Main Street, I notice a small pile of gray stones at the base of a silver lamppost. It looks like a miniature chorten, like the big ones placed at the top of each pass in the Himalayas, or like the little path markers we learned to make in Scouts, pointing the direction at the junction of two paths. The pointy rock on top is shaped like an ant's head or a knight's helmet. The rock creature looks like it's holding a bit of greenery growing up out of a crack in the concrete pavement. It seems to be guarding a small hand-printed placard leaning against the lamppost. I have to lean over to read it. It says: "If you can fit between here without knocking over the tower you can legitimately say that you're stuck between a rock and a hard place . . . otherwise quit your bitchin'." I laugh and then squat down and carefully stick my hand between the sign and the tower.

wearing a pink cast

wearing a pink cast

a woman in a wheelchair

with a yellow flag

In my teens I read J. D. Salinger's Franny and Zooey and the scene at the end of the story made a deep impression on me. Zooey is talking to Franny on the phone and they both remember something Seymour said when they were child prodigies performing on radio shows and didn't want to shine their shoes for a stupid audience that couldn't see them anyway. Seymour told them they should shine their shoes for the "Fat Lady" and Zooey suddenly realizes that the Fat Lady is Christ. To me this meant that the essence of each person is divine. So there she goes in her wheelchair, wearing striped pink shorts and a hot pink cast on her left foot, her little right hand on her heart.