I know that thistledown has a reputation to live up to, but all it does really, is take its payload and dump it somewhere downwind. It takes a decent bit of wind, too, to shake the seeds lose.
Our thistle seeds have become quite used to having full access to all the modern conveniences of life – otherwise known as parents. They are happy to join their peer group, busy building the hype surrounding life at a university at the other end of the country. But still, when it comes to the time to actually leave home, that place that they couldn’t wait to get out of, it suddenly seems safe and familiar,and childhood so much more preferable to adulthood.
The Rosebay Willowherb uses much the same distribution network – a fluffy, almost-lighter-than-air contrivance surrounding each seed. No hanging on to childhood for Rosebay teenagers. All it takes is a nice sunny day, and the seed cases, looking like miniature runner beans, split sharply open and the scions of the house are ejected, unceremoniously, out into the cruel world.
On our way down to the beck the other (nice sunny) day, we looked ahead to where the banks of Rosebay Willowherb line the road. Oh! The angst! The trauma! It seemed as if we were walking into a snow storm, a perfect blizzard of airborne histamine.
And that gets right up my nose.
