I had planned to sleep in my tent last night, and walked out there with my backpack. But on the path on the way to my tent, I met a little skunk. Probably a young adult.

It bravely stomped its feet, and even aggressively rushed me for a foot or two. I stepped back in surprise, but then I slowly approached, hoping it would head into the bushes.

It disappeared around a bend in the path, and I hesitantly continued, not knowing when I would see it suddenly around a corner, and not wanting to get close at all.

When I got to the clearing with the tent, there it was! After it left the clearing, I packed up the tent and beat a graceful retreat.

It’s going to rain tomorrow anyway, and now I don’t have to take down a wet tent.

So long, little skunk. I hope we don’t meet again.

I slept under the stars. Well, under the trees under the stars.

The oaks and poplars surrounded me, and blocked my view of the full moon.

But then I invited them into the photos.

I was not alone; my headlamp attracted many moths.

I have heard this plant described as a noxious weed, and I have seen websites where it was accepted as almost a native plant, probably because it has so successfully naturalized. For years I have pulled out this plant, but now I find it growing in the woods around our farm, and I realize it is futile.

In June I came upon the flower and even though I still disliked it at that time, I couldn’t help but be struck by its beauty. So I had to photograph it.

This week I came upon its seed form, a shining ball of wind-ready seeds, looking like a giant dandelion seed head. In the strong sunlight, each wispy feather gleamed bronze. It was breathtaking, almost surreal in its shimmering beauty.

I will try not to dislike this plant, since it is here to stay. The seed ball in sunlight goes a long way toward making me actually like it.