Fat Brown Fuzzy Cigar

I went on and on the other day getting my bike tire fixed.  And all weekend I tried to give my sore knee a rest before heading out for another pedal session.  Yesterday I went north up towards the bridge at the Walkill and the blue bike, the proper male bike, felt great.  I stopped and did my plant check at Garvin’s there where the trail cuts through Huguenot street.  Only two new species but I’ll take em’.  “Hollow Joe-Pye Weed” has a lovely, distinct seed crest and the Broad-leafed Cattail with that fat, brown fuzzy cigar on its main stalk, was also a new one, for me.

 

The last dash home, the final half a mile or so has an ever-so-slight incline and here I began press hard and to feel it.  Nothing acute, just a throbbing that suggested the muscles had not exactly been overlooked on this ride.  And last night, man, that knee area and the whole leg was aching.  It kept me from sleeping.  Today it rained all day, so I had an excuse, but I really hope this doesn’t knock bicycling into the ash-bin of history for me the way jogging is no longer really possible.

 

Shopping at Adams the other day I’d notice the funny looking pattypan squash.  No.  There is no way I would have every recognized that name and I had no idea how to cook them, but I threw a few into a bag, photo’d the sign so I could remember what they were and reckoned I’d figure it all out.  Today I cut up some triangles, baked them and tossed them with a bit of olive oil, parsley and red pepper.  Can’t say they were popular with the ladies here, but I enjoyed them.  I’ll try pattypan’s again some time.  If only so I can toss out that name, like I know.

 

Ned Rorem is an interesting composer.  I noticed he had a collection entitled: “Chamber Music with Flute” which was as nice as it sounds.  Flutes have a unique, elfin appeal, don’t they?  The first time I’d enjoyed a flute like that as adult must have been when old Bloomdido Bad de Grass, the one Didier Malherbe blew alongside Steve Hillage on “Flute Salad, midway there through the trilogy on “Angles Egg.”  It was seventeen or so and I decided that flutes, not just distorted guitars, would be allowed into my mind-scape.  Yeah.  Flutes are lovely. 

 

 

 

Monday, 08/03/20