I am bloodied and in pain as I write today. Not because of billy goat attack (that will be detailed in an upcoming post – Natalie the nanny goat is dating as we speak). Not because of any psychological bruise recent foreign policy decisions have inflicted upon me. But rather because everything is sharp in this ecosystem at this time of year.
I am essentially a seed transport mechanism for tiny, painful Chinese stars that leave my dog limping and mandates socks for me. Socks are a strange garment in the desert. And not just socks: disposable socks. Think really strong Velcro.
That’s because all the prettiest wildflowers recognize they need to get nasty in order to survive in a desert/alpine forest transition zone. The stars come from a yellow daisy-like beauty in late summer that makes the desert, horizon to horizon, look like a sunrise and drives half the human and canine population mad with allergies – choking their respiratory system from sinus to lungs (it doesn’t bother me, thank God, though Sadie gasps half the night and the vet prescribed Benadryl). I could look up the scientific name for this flower but that would be an academic exercise. Allergy sufferers across New Mexico know the plant as FYF. That is, (Expletive deleted) Yellow Flower. Even some allergists call it that. I love the flower’s effect on the Funky Butte Ranch’s panoramic palate as much as I hate its seeds and the way its potent pollen tortures people and other animals close to me.
I’ve come to think that all human weapon innovations, from grenades to poison gas, have derived from personal desert experiences by vindictive people. All is fair, they say, in love and war, and in the realm of desert seed dispersal the two seem to mix. I mean, literally interbreed. Conceptually. And so my mind wanders to the way concepts come to manifest themselves in the physical world. The photo I’ve posted here displays just a few samples of the Chinese stars that, in the billions, are the bane of life here while folks elsewhere can enjoy autumn in the more traditional areas of changing colors and cooling temperatures. We get those, too, but I don’t notice because I’m hobbling around, pulling spikes out of my spine.