Went to Max Patch today. Windrows and mown hay everywhere…

max patch  windrows

max patch wildflowers
Tons of goldenrod and aromatic aster, some white asters, patches of ironweed and a few naturalized yellow snapdragons were in bloom. And I think some poison hemlock, on the side-trail up the hill, had some really astonishing seed-heads out. Saw lots of bees—yay bees!

max patch summit


tea on max patch
Had tea, read some G. M. Hopkins. “Hurrahing in Harvest,” to be exact. Sure is nice to have a Traveling Poetry Bag!

Including unflattering photo of self solely for siblings (blood and honorary) who don’t see me on a regular basis: Liesl, Katie J, and Erin if she’s interested. Sooo…this is what I look like now! Actually, Marshall and I both think that my stomach looks smaller in this photo than it does in real life. Anyway there’s a 2 lb. baby in there. Also, so this sitting position? With both legs forward and no back support? Turns out it’s completely effortless, now, as my center of gravity is shifting forward. I used to hate sitting like this for any amount of time (tight hamstrings…weak back…), but I could sit like this forever with this amount of weight on my front. Ha! Strangeness.

I also had to drink my Earl Grey with no half-and-half, because the warm car ride up (unrefrigerated) made it go bad. :(  SIGH. But the cinnamon-oat scones were so good. And … the lovely behavior of the silk-sack clouds. I should have read “The Windhover,” too, as it shares some kind of category with “Hurrahing in Harvest,” but I didn’t think of it. Also there are only crows up on the bald. And crows aren’t achieving or majestic. Or masterful.

I love the word “windrows.” It’s so beautiful that it seems like it should be archaic—but it’s not. “Stook” is also nice, but I think it’s definitely archaic.