"I'm going to speak my mind because I have nothing to lose."--S.I. Hayakawa

Sunday, September 25, 2011

Fluffle Flight

Here in Halibut Cove, I was sitting at the kitchen counter writing on my laptop, which is the only place in this multi-windowed room where I can avoid multiple reflections on the full-glare screen, when movement outside caught my eye.  There were white things in the air!

Not snow, thank goodness, not on this warm and sunny morning.  A fluffle of fireweed seeds were in flight.  Fluffle is the lastest collective noun I invented.

A couple days ago, the long, slender seed pods on the fireweed were closed tightly.  Now they were in full blossom, looking like cotton candy on five-foot tall maroon stalks.  

Even though the air seemed dead calm, the seeds were flying.  Perhaps the warming temperature created enough of a thermal to provide lift, and the seeds were taking full advantage.

Some were caught in invisible spider silk, others landed in the water.  Even more drifted straight up in the warming air.

The annual migration lasted until the sun went behind a cloud and the air cooled. 

Not over, just paused until the next opportunity.


  1. Fluffle is the perfect word for that!

  2. How wonderful that you (and therefore your readers) are at the lodge in a different season this year!