A prophet called "Fireweed"

Around here, they say you know summer is over when the top blossom of the Fireweed blooms. As you can see, it still has a little way to go to get to that top blossom. So maybe this incredibly sunny, warm and even hot summer will linger a little longer yet. As for me, this summer has so far been the summer that really was, yet never happened. I will explain another time, when I am sitting at my computer typing into my blog, rather than walking down the road dictating into my iPhone.

Two boys taking flowers home to Mom - summertime in Alaska style

Tonight I was pedaling my bike up the Seldon bike trail and I saw three people walking ahead of me, their backs to me because they were going in the same direction. One looked big, like a teen or young adult, the other two were boys and from a distance it looked one of them was carrying a small, desiccated Christmas tree. When I got close, I saw it was not a tree at all, but a fireweed in bloom.

"That's quite a flower to take home to Mom," I said as I pedaled past. 

"Yes," the teen said. I then recognized him as the young boy who used to follow our late dog Willow and me when we would go walking. He loved Willow. All the immigrant children from the former states of the USSR did. Sometimes, a big group would follow us, all of them loving Willow. So now I stopped and these boys posed with the fireweed.

I realize it is not Wednesday and yet I am, once again, posting. I figured I had to. My birthday, 2013, is now history. I cannot leave it at the top of the page. People will keep wishing me happy birthday when it is no longer my birthday.

I won't post again now until my official post day of Wednesday. Unless I have to.