#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream
“Turtlehead (Chelone glabra)
By Patricia J. Ruta McGhan
Turtlehead is also known as balmony, bitter herb, codhead, fish mouth, shellflower, snakehead, snake mouth, and turtle bloom. It is part of the Figwort family (Scrophulariacea) and has the scientific name Chelone glabra. In Greek mythology, there was a nymph named Chelone who insulted the gods; in punishment, she was turned into a turtle. The flowers of this plant are said to look like the heads of turtles. Glabra is from the Latin word meaning smooth because of the lack of hairs or texture on the stems and leaves.”
A nice surprise at the swamp–finally, a sighting of the turtlehead flower, my first this year. I’ve had my eye out for it for weeks, in the spots where it’s known to grow. I had given up expectation of seeing it this year. There is something so ritualistic and reassuring about being able to identify wild perennials, and something like a secret knowledge, to know the places in soil that they call home, their fruitful places. To understand what they prefer, the elements of habitat that help them thrive. The moist muckiness of the swamp and shade, this turtle wants. Typically, turtlehead blooms in August, in at least three spots where I count on finding it. So, now I see it has been here all along these weeks, and the turtle head has likely noticed me, even if I have been blind to it. Perhaps it’s the fun play, yesterday, in our frog pond, with my grand nephew that called up the turtlehead to consciousness: watching the surface of our little frog pond for the tiny, yellow dotted, poked up head of the young painted turtles. Squeals of delight, shared by me and Lucas at this sight. Yes, that’s it. Well, I walked a long time today, with some pain, and tried to ignore it. My glute strain from yesterday, my slight limp. I set the chairs up in the yard in the sun growing warm. My Farm Pond Writers meeting for our back from summer break ritual gathering. The first time we’ve been together in person since January! We wore masks, and distanced our chairs, in a lovely mix of sun and shade on the green grass of my wide open yard, and it was splendid to reconnect, to see everyone, and to have someone new with us, too, a friend of mine, a writer and actor I worked with quite a bit in Playwright’s Platform. There are a dozen writers this year, entering our sixth. Sixth year of this writing collective! Next week, the workshop begins, and the plan is to have us meet outdoors, masked, socially distanced, as long into the fall as is possible with weather. We shall see. When the weather isn’t fine, we’ll be on Zoom. But September and October, well, we might get lucky. This is a group of women writers who, like me, are passionate about nature, fresh air, and the creative blessings of being outdoors. Tonight, I mothered my pregnant daughter a bit. Sweet, tender time, to feel needed, to be able to offer comfort and support. We have a lovely time talking and even took a swim. And my glue is feeling, all day, progressively better, and I’m optimistic about feeling back to normal tomorrow! Oh! And one of the best parts: I revised a problem poem. Agh! This poem. All week, thinking alternately, I will bring it to workshop Thursday, and I will throw it away. Well, this morning I woke up and felt: Kelly, just look at it. Consider a new opening. And then, I did. And I soon felt like I’d made improvements that save the poem. We shall see.