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Updated: June 25, 2025
The chimneys are shaped something like ears and the roofs are all covered with fur!" "Yes," answered Peter, "and they've got little gardens to 'em, Ann. I guess that must be the catnip we smell so strong. I don't see any flowers, though, only big tall weeds, rows and rows of 'em milkweed that's what it is! What do you suppose they planted that for?"
We have hardly a weed we can call our own. I recall but three that are at all noxious or troublesome, namely, milkweed, ragweed, and goldenrod; but who would miss the last from our fields and highways? "Along the roadside, like the flowers of gold That tawny Incas for their gardens wrought, Heavy with sunshine droops the goldenrod," sings Whittier.
I am not aware that Mr. Wood ever ascertained the particular species of milkweed in this case. It is not probable that our Eastern species need ever seriously threaten the apiary, though unquestionably large numbers of bees are annually destroyed by its excessive hospitality.
She had been painted, enameled, vibrated, massaged; she had had electric treatment, rays and tissue builders; and once she had been baked. To-day the toilet table would be loaded with milkweed, cerates and vanishing cream; tomorrow they would all be swept away, given to delighted chambermaids, while Mrs. Condon declared that, when all was said, cold water and a rough towel was nature's way.
Two months hence an occasional silky messenger will float away from the glistening clouds about the open milkweed pods, but who ever thanks the bees of June for them? The flower is but a bright anticipation an expression of hope in the being of the parent plant. It has but one mission.
Closer to the fence are lemon-yellow coreopsis with quaint, three-cleft leaves; thimble weeds with fruit columns half a finger's length; orange-flowered milkweed, like the color of an oriole's back, made doubly gay by brilliant butterflies and beetles.
Wood sorrel nestled in the grassy corners near the crude rail fences, daisies and spiked toad-flax grew lavishly among the weeds of the roadside. In the meadows tall milkweed swayed its clusters of pink and lavender, marsh-marigolds dotted the grass with discs of pure gold, and Queen Anne's lace lifted its parasols of exquisite loveliness.
As in all flowers, the pollen of the milkweed blossom must come in contact with its stigma before fruition is possible. In this peculiar family of plants, however, the pollen is distinct in character, and closely suggests the orchids in its consistency and disposition.
The white dust, which lay thick upon the wide road between rolling fields of ripened grain, rose in little spirals from beneath the heavy feet of the plodding farm-horses drawing the empty hay-wagon, and had scarcely settled again upon the browning goldenrod and fuzzy milkweed which bordered the rail fences on either side when Ebb Fischel's itinerant butcher-jitney rattled past.
Far afield the milkweed nodded a soft welcome to the butterflies winging, like flying flowers, over the fields. A bumblebee droned drowsily near, humming his song to unheeding ears. Where the tall pine trees of the forest met the sky argosies of clouds spread their portly sails along the blue. In the heat of the July morning Peggy sat shaking like a leaf.
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