I’m approaching two-thirds of the year done. The days blur into each other now, and I wonder if I’m starting to merely go through the motions instead of enjoying each day for its unique, unrepeatable beauty.
And then there are shocks like this morning, reminding me not to wait if there’s something I want a photo of. I took the short trail today, and as I came up the steep part of the hill to rejoin the regular prairie trail, I was stunned. The path looked as though someone had come through with a weed whacker. The verge had been trimmed a foot or two back on both sides of the trail. Cut and dying grasses were strewn about underfoot, and so many of the pretty flowers I’d been watching develop now lost forever.
I mean, it’s one thing if I wait too long and a flower closes up to create a seed. That’s my own fault. Flowers don’t last forever – a few days at most. But this… losing a bloom I haven’t even identified yet because of some contrived idea of a proper appearance is entirely other. I mean, the Friends of the Bluff, the folks who take care of the paths and stairs – by their own charter and purpose are they even allowed to mow down the prairie grasses?
The path was getting overgrown. Can’t deny that. Most of the time I mentally referred to it as “the jungle.” And most dewy mornings a person would get a bit damp from contact transfer. But on the whole, I really did prefer that to this more manicured look. I suppose I’ll get used to it in time, but it’s disappointing. There are several flowers I’d had my eye on; now I’ll have to find somewhere else in order to include them in my collection.
Does kind of make a person wonder, though – what did the volunteers think of my little trampled-down area, worn bare of any vegetation?