• Polished two pairs of shoes. Realized that I should treat the Florsheim oxfords that I keep in the overflow storage downstairs with a little more respect, since I seem to wear them in every show I’m in.
• Cleaned my hip waders.
• Cleaned out my makeup kit.
• Found a rain jacket that I thought I’d given away.
• Got together some glass jars for upcoming entomology field trips with Don Messersmith.
• Updated my Goodreads shelves. The [author: ] tag is broken.
• Ran vinegar water through the coffeemaker.
• Tested the batteries stored in the shoebox.
• Reviewed the recent schedule changes for the 505 and 551/553/557 buses.
• Listened to a half-month of Songs of the Day and nearly caught up with reading other blogroll backlogs.
• Got my Day-Timer pages for the year (starts in October) sorted and ready to go.

It was in the spirit of the day to be charmed rather than annoyed by the accidental music of the city: the beeping of a bus’s wheelchair lift during [Terry Riley's] In C; the syncopated barking of a dog energized by the drumming of Loop 2.4.3.

Walter Coppage’s Wilks, empowered to the point of smugness, as well as the rest of the cast, seem pinned down by the staging in this production: there’s too much of a feel of “this is where I stand for my monologue.” Some transitions are forced: characters change the topic of conversation for apparently no reason. At least that’s the case until the electrifying closing scene when all of Wilks’s deals fall apart and Coppage gets to cut loose.

Easily stealing the show is Frederick Strother in the chewy comic role of “Elder” Joseph Barlow, a shuffling street person who resists Wilks and partner’s attempts to gentrify his Hill District neighborhood.

• Radio Golf, by August Wilson, directed by Ron Himes, The Studio Theatre, Washington

• E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial (1982)
• Forrest Gump (1994)
• Alien (1979)
• Titanic (1997)
• When Harry Met Sally… (1989)

The hiking is easy, with just a little elevation change. There is one slippery crossing of Magruder Branch which we all managed to varying degrees of dryness. The upper reaches of the trail we followed, above Log House Road, lie within Damascus Recreational Park, and consist of accessible asphalt and boardwalk.

Bob’s strength is the green stuff, so we botanized great and small, including this huge White Oak (Quercus alba). We found some individuals of another as-yet-unidentified oak species, something resembling Shingle Oak (Q. imbricaria); one of its saplings is visible in the image, between Bob and the big tree. Among the wildflowers blooming in late June, Bob pointed out a yarrow, Water Hemlock, Fringed Loosestrife, Deptford Pink (I gotta learn how to do macro with my point and shoot). The wet bottomlands yield half a dozen species of ferns. I learned that the green case of an immature Mockernut Hickory (Carya tomentosa), when scratched, smells wonderful.

Our destination species, if you will , was found in several patches north of Log House Road. Wavyleaf Basketgrass (Oplismenus hirtellus ssp. undulatifolius) is a new invasive of particular concern in Maryland. Perennial, shade indifferent, and propagated by seeds that can attach themselves to passing mammals, the plant has a lot of weapons at its disposal. The patch in this image was recently treated with a herbicide, but we found another untreated patch nearby.

A colloquy of nuthatches met to discuss our lunch break. Acadian Flycatchers and Wood Thrushes were numerous, if not easy to spot.

But the art keeps getting better, year over year. Representation by artists outside the immediate metro area continues to grow, especially artists from Sunderland in the U.K. There are many good photographers working with D.C. as their subject, coming from just as many perspectives. A standout is Angela Kleis, who showed “…There’s been a terrible accident,” high-angle images of a dead body lying artfully posed in the setting of various local landmarks.

Yes, there are a number of immature pieces in the show, some of them rather naively priced. But then there is a set of three accomplished abstractions on canvas by Jacqui Crocetta; or consider the lightly textured sculptures of heads by Anthony J. Ouellette. I generally don’t pause for video work, but Tracey Salaway’s “Seed Heads” caught me up short. It’s a long tracking shot through a patch of weeds, a beetle’s-eye-view of a dandelion in which its globe of seeds fills the screen.

“This didn’t happen because a bunch of wild-haired hippies protested down the street,” [John] Perrecone [manager for Great Lakes programs at the Environmental Protection Agency] said. “This happened because a lot of citizens up and down the watershed worked hard for 40 years to improve the river.”

HAMLET. Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me! You would play upon me, you would seem to know my stops, you would pluck out the heart of my mystery, you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass; and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ, yet cannot you make it speak. ‘Sblood, do you think I am easier to be play’d on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you fret me, yet you cannot play upon me.

The park is a green blast of primary production. Bird activity is subsiding, with only one lazy egret to accent the landscape. I saw a family of Mallards; a Red-shouldered Hawk was screaming an important message to someone. Chris IDs the large-leaved plants in the right image as Spatterdock (Nuphar lutea).

Set off by the green is the bright orange of a drift of Dodder (Cuscuta spp.), a parasitic vine that I find absolutely fascinating.