This mystery flower (mystery to me, at least) lives along the railing of my neighbors' porch. It's a cottage for them, not a year-round residence, and they usually only come here once or twice over the summer, and then again in the late fall to get it ready for winter. At both those times, this plant isn't blooming, so I always forget to ask them what the name of it is.
All summer it drapes over the railing as if it were dead (see brown patch in the top photo). Then as summer draws to a close, it begins to go green, and finally, for a brief while in mid-September, when all the autumn-colored mums and goldenrod are having their annual get-together, it blossoms forth with masses of pretty little four-point stars, and fills the air with an incredibly sweet scent. It's a heavy summer perfume, almost like mock orange. If any of you gardners and green-thumbers out there recognize it, I'd love to know what this "late bloomer" is!
The Cloud Messenger (Meghadūta) is a lyric poem by the respected Indian poet, Kālidāsa. The poem centers around a yaksa in exile. Longing for his beloved, waiting for him on a Himalayan mountain, he asks a cloud to take a message to her. The sights he tells the cloud it will see on its way make up most of the poem.
The idea of recording observations appeals to me. I thought The Cloud Messenger was the perfect title for a blog about the journey that we all make as we move through our days.
I'm a baby boomer who grew up dancing in the streets of Detroit during the classic Motown years, lived beside the Rocky Mountains for many years, now retired and living (and writing full time) in S. Ontario. I have one blog for rock 'n' roll oldies, and one for nature, poetry and life along the Lake.