Walking on Marbles

While stepping briskly through Oakwoods Nature Area this week, I found myself suddenly fighting to keep my balance.  It was as if I were walking on marbles.  The path was covered with acorns that had lost their caps, rolling freely and hastening my progress downhill.  Our neighbors had a similar experience near Jackson.  They were biking at speed and suddenly struggling to remain upright on a path covered in black walnuts in their great green spherical husks. 

     There were mushrooms and more mushrooms in Saginaw Forest when Sue and Tesla and I walked there recently.  Sue studied shrooms and fungi in this woods when she was an undergrad and maintained her dignity upon seeing them there again.  I, on the other hand, tended to go completely gaga with excitement when discovering, say, a fairy ring.  “Lots of mushrooms form fairy rings,” she’d say, standing at the focus of the circle, “and the mycelium is all underneath,” while I’m still stuck at “A fairy ring!  A real fairy ring!”  And, “Look, little puffballs!  Do they grow into giants?”  “No, these stay small.”  “May I puff one?”  “Sure,” she said, so I gave one a squeeze.  We even saw a coral mushroom growing on a downed log.  It looked like the start of a coral reef.

     We had a thunderstorm last night.  The dog is afraid of thunder.  And the fact that nothing allays his fear does not deter him from a frenzied search for relief.  Nighttime thunder prompts him to leap onto our bed, walk on our arms and faces, and squeeze his body between us, while shaking hard and whimpering.  Full-body contact and continuous petting are required for the duration of the storm which, in this case, lasted till morning.  When I came downstairs, bleary eyed, it was to see the dog cuddled into a collection of his stuffed toys—three in front and one in back.  Maybe he’s come up with a way to comfort himself.  We can only hope.

     I went to the plant nursery yesterday for some more mulch for the back yard.  My husband went with me so I could show him the $250-dollar pumpkin which, oddly enough, hadn’t sold since I’d seen it the day before.  It isn’t really a pumpkin at all; it looks more like an enormous hubbard squash, deep orange with green markings.  And I exaggerated the price; it’s really only $249.99.

     When our youngest daughter was little, we took her to a farm that grows actual giant pumpkins.  We chose one, and the workers loaded it into our trunk.  It turned out, though, that my husband and I weren’t strong enough (yes, I know who the weak link was) to get the pumpkin out of the trunk when we got home.  A passerby stopped and helped my husband load the behemoth onto our little red wagon and thence into the house.  The pumpkin provided us with great pleasure that autumn and all for the low, low price of about ten bucks, with a hayride thrown in for good measure.

     Sue and I reminisced a bit about excellent Halloween costumes past.  Our neighbor across the street, entranced as a lad by all things recycling, came to our door one year dressed as a recycling truck.  It was an ingenious get-up; there was no doubt at all what he was supposed to be.  That same year, a young girl around the corner came as a piano, complete with keyboard and music on the music stand.  One year Marilyn’s daughter wanted to be a cow, specifically a Holstein, and Marilyn complied.  Sue’s daughter once chose to be a centaur.  Sue didn’t flinch, though, as each year her daughter started planning her costume a couple months before the Big Day and included detailed drawings and materials sourcing in her proposal.        

     I hope the children come trick-or-treating this year, despite CoVid’s continued presence.  Even if all they do is ring the bell and wave at us through the window, they’ll still have fun and so will we.  We’ll be happy to leave the candy outside for them again.  Halloween is one of the major high points of the kid year, when children can be whoever or whatever they fancy, and carefree for a little while.  The only thing that can spoil the fun is inclement weather, forcing the donning of outdoor trappings that cover up the beloved costumes.  Sue’s daughter insisted that her mother address this problem forthwith, one rainy Halloween, and so she did.  She wrapped her costumed child in layer after layer of plastic wrap, and saved the day.  As a wise mom once said to me, motherhood is the necessity of invention.

22 October 2021