Teasel is an interesting plant that has the reputation of being invasive -- imported from the UK, it is now present in most of the US. It is considered hazardous to weaker vegetation, and most authorities think it should be destroyed at all costs.

But ... teasel, in tincture form, is now understood to have the amazing ability to force the spirochetes of Lyme Disease out of body tissue and into the bloodstream, where they can then be safely washed from the system.

Pretty impressive.

I'm fascinated by the fact that deer absolutely adore teasel, and will gather from all directions to raid the remains of a summer teasel patch in the depth of winter. Deer have the reputation of being the carrier for the dreaded "deer tick", bearer of Lyme Disease (though common field mice actually seem to be the champion of Lyme Disease vectors). 

In China, concoctions made from deer horns are used for similar spirochete-caused ailments. Early spinners used dried teasel blossom for carding wool and flax. Many people today use dried teasel for flower arrangements, and we have it in our chapel every Lent.

I have no idea how all of this fits together -- but it is still really interesting to me. And from seemingly nowhere, we now have seven healthy second-year teasel plants in the ornamental, flower and herb gardens around the house. These blossoming plants will soon to be ready for both seed and root harvesting. 

Is teasel a weed? an ornamental? a healing plant? 

All in the eye of the beholder, I suppose.

Alfie is a nine-month-old puppy I have been taking for mid-day walks for several months.  He's getting a bit big and still too undisciplined for me to walk safely, so I now play with him in his back yard instead.  I love him dearly.

On Tuesday Alfie and I were alternately playing frisbee, playing ball, digging and exploring.  Mostly digging.  But when he headed into the plants in the far left corner of the yard, I moved up closer.  Then he took on a different stance, moved slowly, alert, head forward, suddenly jumped back a pace. Hesitated, resumed slow stalking, jumped back again, very interested, hesitant.  I moved closer, just in case!

Suddenly he really pulled back and we both stared at a little fuzzy ball that had emerged just a few inches from him.  A baby bird.  They were almost touching, nose to beak, but Alfie was wary. I grasped of his collar and pulled him back.  The baby took off on foot and went past us, over the stones, down to the grass, stopped.  I called to Venita [my aide] to get the red leash I always bring along,  Alphie was trying to investigate the baby.  Said baby had his beak wide open--I couldn't hear a thing but he was obviously shrieking at the top of his probably very carrying voice.  

While I put the leash on Alfie, the baby continued his journey diagonally toward the next door fence and disappeared under some leaves.  I wanted Venita to hold Alphie, giving me a chance to collect the baby and return him to his nest or a spot nearby. (I'd just read an article about wildlife rescues that said the rumor that parent birds won't take back a baby that has been handled by humans is not true.  A rescued and uninjured infant should be restored to a spot near the nest.  The parents then take over.)  

While I checked Alphie and Venita out, I noticed a bird flying down toward what must be the nest site--bush and tree branches in that corner.  No flash of color: Mom had arrived.  A moment later another bird approached and settled momentarily on the fence.  Bright red! Dad had arrived.  He headed in the same direction as Mom.  The baby came out of his hiding place, raced past us and made a bee-line back to his point of origin.  

I can only assume Mom and maybe Dad were calling him back--either that, or he had an unusually good short-term memory of his original route.   Alfie, Venita and I retreated to the house to leave the rescue team alone.  Yesterday, Alfie checked out that area, but showed no particular reaction.  

All apparently ended well.