Thistle: No More Waiting
Last December, I was at the Beacon train station, and I noticed a really magnificent specimen of a thistle. It was growing, still green in December, thriving among the gravel so carefully placed to keep weeds down (see Thistle: Waiting for the Train). Well, today I happened to be at the Beacon train station again, waiting for the New York City train, and there was my prickly friend. The thistle has weathered the winter, better than I did–no colds, flu or dry skin–and is in fine shape. No more just a flat basal rosette of leaves–now it’s time to spring into action....
Read MoreThistle: A Visit From a Poet
For those of you who celebrate Christmas, a certain poem was probably part of your upbringing, along with Frosty and Rudolph and all that sort of thing. You know the one I mean. You heard it, I heard it, we all heard it a zillion times in school, at home, on TV. “Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house not a creature was stirring not even a mouse…” But although I heard the words enough times that they embedded themselves in my memory, I really had only a hazy idea of what it all meant. I mean, I got the general drift of Santa bringing the good stuff, but what, exactly, were...
Read MoreThistle: Waiting for the Train
The Beacon train station. Waiting around for the train to New York City on a chilly damp day. It’s a long wait, and the train is running late, and the commuters are starting to grumble. Nothing to do but scout around for some interesting plant life. Over here in the rocks (which were carefully placed to keep weeds from growing) is a nice healthy cluster of thistle leaves. Not unlike commuters, thistles are aggressive and prickly. You have to be a bit prickly, to survive in a train station. Thistles have survival down to a science. They’re dandelion relatives, members of the Asteraceae,...
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