Something James Thurber Said

—"Progress was all right. Only it went on too long.”

—"Sixty minutes of thinking of any kind is bound to lead to confusion and unhappiness.”

—"He who hesitates is sometimes saved.”

Another Weird World Record

I recently read the story of Anya Bannasch, a California woman who set a Guinness World Record by fitting 711 golf tees into her hair. It’s an impressive feat, to be sure—but I tend to prefer some of the more outlandish records.

Here are a couple of my favorites:

 

Most Canned Drinks Opened by a Parrot in One Minute

Record: 35 cans

Holder: Zac the Macaw (San Jose, USA)

Zac used his powerful beak to pop open 35 drink cans in just 60 seconds.

 

Most Toilet Seats Broken by the Head in One Minute

Record: 46 toilet seats

Holder: Kevin Shelley (Germany)

Armed with his forehead and a questionable sense of self-preservation, Shelley smashed 46 toilet seats in 60 seconds.

Tee Hair (Anya Bannasch)

—Mitchell Hegman

Deflated

I found Desiree’s trio of whatchacallit plants fully deflated in their pot. I rather panicked when I saw that the plants had utterly collapsed down to the potting soil. Usually, this kind of thing is the result of something I’ve done.

Had I unwittingly harmed the whatchacallits? Had I accidentally squashed them while checking out the nearby tomato plant? Could my allowing the wind to slam the front door account for this? Were the plants reacting to my choice of music? What had I done this time?

Staring at the plants, I found myself drawing blanks.

Eventually, I asked Desiree about the plants.

“I pushed them over,” she said.

“You did? It wasn’t something I did?” I scratched at my cheek for a moment. “Why did you do that?”

“They were done.”

“Oh. Good to know.”

I was happy to find out this was not a result of my music.

Whatchacallit Plants

—Mitchell Hegman

The Eveningstar

One of the largest native flowers to blossom in Montana is also one of the easiest to miss. It’s a ghost of sorts—blooming only at night and closing up shop by day.

This time of year, Mentzelia decapetala, a large, pale wildflower more commonly known as Eveningstar, enters its blooming cycle. The flowers open only as daylight wanes and the fruit-basket colors of sunset spill forth from where the sun has cleaved the horizon. Then, like paper lanterns, the Eveningstar’s creamy petals unfurl in full—sometimes measuring five inches across.

By morning, they’re gone again—folded in on themselves, invisible to the casual eye. You could walk by a whole hillside of them and never know they were there.

Eveningstar doesn’t want rich soil or coddled garden beds. It thrives where other things fail here in Montana—on gravel slopes, cracked clay, exposed roadside embankments, and hardpan prairie. Its roots go deep, its stems grow bristly, and its blooms rise from a tangle of angular, gray-green leaves. It’s not trying to be pretty—by location or by day.

The plant doesn’t last long in any one place, and it never begs to be noticed. Eveningstar is primarily pollinated by nocturnal moths, especially hawkmoths, which are active at dusk and throughout the night.

Some late evenings, I catch Eveningstars blooming on a particular roadside cut through a shale bench in the ranchlands near my house. More often than not, I stop to admire these jewels of the night. We are the lucky few who find them on our way to midnight.

Eveningstar (With My Hand for Reference to Size)

A Pair of Eveningstar

—Mitchell Hegman

In a Bottle

At one level, we are simply living in a bottle. Inside the bottle, freight trains thread across mountain passes, restless seas grasp at rocky coasts, and clouds range lazily above beasts in the field. At night, cities glow like circuitry, and voices bounce invisibly between towers. We plant flower gardens. We wage wars. We send postcards and text messages.

Outside the bottle, the Moon endlessly circles, comets streak through flexing stars, and tiny bottles we’ve ejected from our big bottle are only now reaching out to explore what lies beyond. Out there, no one knows our names. No one waits for us. And yet, we keep sending.

Exploration is our naming song.

—Mitchell Hegman

The Rendering

On July 26, a married couple, Cristen Amanda Brink and her husband, Clinton David Brink, were attacked and stabbed to death while hiking with their two daughters at Devil's Den State Park in Arkansas. The girls, aged 7 and 9, managed to flee and seek help at a visitors’ center.

The attack seemed utterly random, but a possible male suspect caught the attention of other park visitors, who worked with a forensic sketch artist to create a composite image of the man.

Five days after the murders, police arrested a man named Andrew James McGann at Lupita’s Beauty Salon in Springdale, Arkansas, while he was in the middle of getting a haircut. He reportedly admitted to the murders once taken into custody, though no motive has yet been revealed.

What I find most incredible is the accuracy of the sketch produced by the forensic artist based on witness descriptions—the sharp chin and the too-deep, dead eyes. The sketch captured what arresting officers described as the murderer’s “soulless” look.

I’ve posted a photo of McGann and the forensic artist’s rendering for comparison.

The Artist's Sketch

Photo of Andrew James McGann

—Mitchell Hegman

Proper Care of Your Moon Orchid

Desiree has a gift for the nurture and care of orchids. Her moon orchid, in particular, has thrived. I’ve been paying attention and thought I might offer others a helpful list of tips for proper orchid care. Here is my list of things to know when caring for your own orchid:

• Give your orchid plenty of sunlight.
• Water your orchid once a week. Placing a large ice cube at the plant's base and allowing it to melt is efficient and root-friendly. A word of caution: don’t short yourself on ice for Scotch when using ice as a watering method.
• Don’t use a wire brush or industrial-strength cleaning agents when “washing” your orchid.
• Refrain from swimming with your orchid—especially in the deep end of the pool. They’re not strong swimmers.
• Don’t use your orchid as a pry bar.
• Feed your plant orchid food every two weeks when it is actively growing. Never feed it dill pickles.
• Avoid exposing your orchid to country music for extended periods of time.
• Don’t baby-talk your orchid.
• Your moon orchid is hermaphroditic, meaning the flowers have both boy and girl parts. For this reason, giving your plant a unisex name is helpful. Names such as Hank or Brock are not recommended.

Desiree’s Moon Orchid

—Mitchell Hegman