JOY ALONG THE WAY: SEED PODS DECLARE THEIR OWN MIRACLES

The first little ragtag end-of-summer things begin to mar the green expanse of lawn. A few tired leaves let go and flutter to the ground to curl up in the afternoon sun. Old, stubborn, sweet gum balls that defied all the winds of spring and summer finally surrender to gravity and after a rain they appear to be large brown marbles, abandoned by unseen players seeking shelter.

The tomato vines are showing limp, yellowed petticoats. Nature is trying out her rouges on the dogwood leaves. Here a bright red, there a dusty russet. Soon the trees will sport their lacquer red seed pods. In every garden, fencerow, field and forest the miracle of seeds is loudly declaring itself.

I know that across the park and creek to the east, Osage orange trees are getting ready to drop their big lime green balls into the thicket below. One of these days I will take my basket and walk over to get some. Lauren and I have, in the past, had great fun in putting them together to make pudgy, green people With colored thumbtack eyes and nose we can't do much with those features, but we had fun with the mouths, arranging the thumbtacks to make happy smiles, grim smiles, skeptical smiles and some we couldn't name. Missing teeth grins were popular with us too since one of us had such a smile at the time.

The crickets have turned up their volume, hoping to attract mates before it is too late. Some cricket parents have already done their part to increase their population. Removing a big block of plywood that has been leaning up against an interior garage wall, about 156 young crickets skedaddled. Scared me, apprehensive as I am about brown recluses.

On a coolish but sunny afternoon, I walked alongside the hedgerow poking around for pokeberries. I wanted to make some pokeberry ink, sign some letters with it and have distant nieces and nephews answer my letters with a demand to know where I got the pretty purple ink and also to use in a book signing party coming up soon to which you are all invited. Watch. It would seem appropriate to sign "Seeds On The Wind" with ink from pokeberry seed containers. But someone else or something else beat me to the berries. Maybe someone cut the poke when it was young to add to their spring mess of greens. Oh, well, maybe I can use some beet juice, although it isn't half so romantic.

Every morning I sweep up from the back walk a pint or so of miniature acorns from the saw-toothed oak. Why, I wonder, can't they be like other acorns and fall in late September or October?

The acorns shouldn't go to waste, I tell myself. Why not try boiling them and see if I can come up with some more exotic ink? Anything but ink ink, which is so mundane. How would I get it into a fountain pen? I wouldn't. I have an old fashioned ink pin. It is good for signing letters with a flourish.

Speaking of such flourishes, I have an old family register whose border is a most intricate and artful rendition of inked vines, birds, bird nests, complete with eggs. I am practicing a suitable signature with such curlicues. Wouldn't that be up and out of mediocrity to have such a signature in pokeberry or acorn ink? Even boiled green walnut hulls might do. Could lend a woodsy fragrance too.

REJOICE!