Day 4: I had a little time to kill a few days ago and decided to go for a walk through Smallwood Park and along a short section of the Bud Blancher trail just to see...well, lots of things. My Shaggymane spot has overgrown with blackberries, popping the balloon of imagination which had mushroom soup on the night's menu. The trail was empty of Woolly Bears and the river had washed away the last of the caddis-flies' stone "shells." The lichens hadn't seen enough rain to be happy, although they seemed to be trying to muster a small bit of enthusiasm for the cooler temperatures and autumn overall. I had nearly decided to call my walk a bust, if a walk in nature could ever be called a complete waste of time, when I rounded a corner and found the single blue eye of a late-waking Chicory plant winking at me from the brush. That moment of colour drew me into its cheerful glance and transformed my mood into the sudden whimsy of its hue. Who says weeds don't have a bright side?
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