Macro Monday: Milkweed Moment

I returned to see what was happening with the milkweed pods I posted for Wordless Wednesday last week. That WW photo had been taken on September 27th. I originally planned to check them out again before now, but you know, the days just seem to blend in together…and time passed.

However late afternoon on Saturday, it was clouded over and the light was flat. I remembered the milkweeds…which usually photograph well in that kind of light. Cabin fever had risen (again), so I grabbed my camera and escaped out the back door (Exit Stage Right! as Snagglepuss used to say).

I followed a path through the woods to where the milkweed pods had been. Since it is now November, the landscape is basically brown…various shades of brown. It was difficult at first to find them amongst the gone-by plant life.

Luckily, wisps of white perched on top of nearby tall grasses gave away their location. I spotted tall stems with puffy hats. That’s what a strong breeze will do with milkweed “floss.”

And there I found the pods in all their glory.

I braved potential ticks in waiting and crunched through a thick ground cover of leaves and brush.

I was not disappointed.

I also took a special liking to the following image. As the saying goes…it resonated with me…

Milkweed 2020

21 thoughts on “Macro Monday: Milkweed Moment

      1. Not to me. I used to go “visit” shooting stars in the chaparral in California. I knew where patches of them showed up in February. They are summer flowers here in CO. I was homesick for CO and those little things were a bit of home. Over the years I saw them as being unique individuals and all of a kind. I thought that was a beautiful statement about all of us sentient beings through time. They were shaped by their world and their generation just like we are. In a drought year, there were fewer. In wet years when seasonal (and very small) waterfalls flowed a longer time, they were (obviously) lots more of them and larger flowers.

        I know this sounds dumb but I wasn’t going to let them, “… blush unseen,
        And waste its sweetness on the desert air.”

        I learned so much from chasing the shooting stars in those 6000 acres of chaparral.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Wow, Martha, that is an amazing poem. Thank you for sharing it – I hadn’t read it before.
        It doesn’t sound dumb at all – I get it too. Among other things, I go back to “visit” a crooked tree in the woods to see how it’s doing. And the milkweed. Shooting stars? Now that would be something to visit over and over. ❤️

        Liked by 1 person

      3. A survivor and okay with looking different. ❤️ Thank you. It’s one of my favorite discoveries – at the beginning of the path into the woods. I stop for a moment next to it on my walks. I hope it makes it through another winter.

        Liked by 1 person

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