Dew point

When you walk in the morning, around the 6 o’clock hour, you really get a sense of the humidity and the dew point. I used to mow the trails around our place with our Ford 8N, but it’s out of commission, so the grass and wood nettles are getting long. Mowing the trails gives you a false sense of the tameness of nature. You can’t ignore how bursting with energy everything is when you just let it grow. My trail is now just a V in the sea of grass, or a 6-inch bare spot through the woods, instead of a five-foot swath.

Yesterday I got soaked because I forgot to wear my rain pants (I’m tired at 6). I generally walk in my pajamas, which were thoroughly drenched to the thighs by the time I got back. The dew was so thick it ran into my rubber boots, so when I put them on today, they were still wet inside.

Today was not so bad. A breeze and lower humidity made it less wet. But my rain pants were still soaked when I got home.

Overnight the carpet of trout lilies and anemones becomes lost in the ferns and nettles and Virginia waterleaf. I have a green inchworm on my sleeve.


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