The weather forecast has grown more and more ominous throughout the quite warm day, but I needed a cardiac rehab walk so I chanced a trip to the high school running track ahead of the severe thunderstorms. It was time to up my mileage from six, quarter-mile laps, to eight circuits, a full two miles. I don't really like to walk this way, but it has the utility of offering little reason to stop, which, from a heart perspective, is just what the doctor ordered. It does, however, run counter to the way my brain works, which is to zero in on all the myriad details I observe when I'm trekking. And observation is so ingrained a habit that I can't really ever hike without seeing something. Case in point: along the grassy edges of the track, I noticed, to my surprise, a nondescript low weed that bore a few flowers. It's late in the season for blossoms, so, after I finished my walk, I retrieved my camera to "capture" the four-petaled, off white blooms that seemed to belong to a member of the mustard family. Later, at home, I was able to ID the late-bloomer as a kind of Peppergrass, a native wild edible that was grown and eaten by the Incas and ancient Romans alike.