The Ironweed Festival

Here's a concept. Pick something you love and create an event around it. It doesn't have to be a big deal. Just invite a few friends over to appreciate it.

Late summer. Ironweed bloom. Blue sky time. Whatever.

Call it the Ironweed Festival.

Allis-Chalmers sitting in a field time.

Little black dog crossing a sunspot time.

Ironweed painting the meadow time.

It's hard to photograph, to do it justice. This is an old cow pasture, where the cattle ate everything they liked and left what they didn't. Which turns out to be ironweed. Inedible by cattle, though I've seen deer  clip the leaves off from time to time.

Joe-pye weed was contending for top billing in the wet meadows.

Wingstem wanted placement on the marquee as well. We were happy to oblige. Ironweed-Joe-Pye-Wingstem Festival.

And we were recording it for all we were worth. 

J. Studly Magruder posing for a new photo, King of the Ironweed. Those are binoculars, not some weird medieval codpiece. 

The Black Barn, drowning in a sea of purple. And to the left, my beloved chestnut log cabin, now just a pile of timbers crowned with a roof, courtesy the June 29, 2012 derecho. But oh, the landscape. It remains delicious.

A log end.

What's left of the cabin.

Lobelia syphilitica (Great Blue Lobelia) growing against its old timbers. Once used as a treatment for the clap. Good to know, right? You're welcome.

Shila and Tim, in ironweed.