Stasia and timothy grass

My partner in ambulatory crime is heading back home today, but before Stasia departed, there was time for one more walk. It was cloudy but the showers from last night and early this morning promised to hold off, so we took off for the millpond. There was very little going on at the odonate depot, but my granddaughter was fascinated by the Mullein, which was newly in bloom, and the Timothy Grass, whose conspicuous flowerheads were packed with purple stamens and feathery stigmas. The grass is said to have been named to honor Timothy Hanson, a farmer who brought it from New England to the south in the 1720s—Timothy is a European species and probably came over with the Pilgrims—and the grass has been a fixture of country boys since then, who delight in walking around with a stem and flowerhead clenched in their teeth. I've done it, too, but I can't for the life of me understand the attraction, save to say that you do it because, well, just because. Stasia was more intrigued with the flower structure, which she discovered didn't have any smell. It did, however, tickle.