Sand Spurs
They’re back.
Just when you thought there were enough weird things in semi-tropical Florida—–here’s another fun little plant………………Sand Spurs.
Mother Nature’s painful idea of a plant being able to traverse and re-populate.
It’s that time of year when everything is going to seed. Dandelions are nice when they go to seed. Plus they’re a good tea but a better wine. They are a gentle weed.
The fluffy little, poofy things wafting in the air are so pretty. Very pleasant to watch.
Or maybe the Sunflower. 
A kind plant. A pretty plant. An edible plant. 
(I’m sure those cardio-bikers in the well-fields had a handful of those seeds in their pockets as
they were tormenting our horses when we were trail riding last weekend.)-(see previous post).
But Sand Spurs? They are sneaky. They are camouflaged. They parade as grass during the summer, then come autumn—–BLAM! They turn into spiny torpedoes of pain! They are just mean.
Even the common Thistle warns you where it is growing ahead of time. They have these pretty, purple, soft, brush-tail blossoms that are nice on the eyes. And as a plus, all of the donkeys we have ever owned (let me count and see how many donkeys we have owned over the years…………………….NINE—–wow—–who would have guessed !?!) love to eat them. True ambrosia.
Well anyway, all of these donkeys looked at a thistle as a delicacy. It’s really entertaining watching them carefully eat a thistle. Eyes half closed, careful mouth-manipulation of the pointy-bits………………it’s Nirvana to them.
Really you should watch a donkey eat a thistle sometime………………it’s better than Netflix.
***But, Sand Spurs can’t really over-shadow some of this State’s other treats. There are fire ants (their name says a lot doesn’t it?), and then there are these things in the spring that no one seems to be able to decide on one specific name for. I’ve heard Three-Minute Nettles, Weak Nettles, Ortiguilla, Heart-Leaf Nettles, & Burning Dwarf. They look like mint………………but they ain’t. Please, tell me how to kill them!
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But back to this post’s namesake…………………….I hate them.
There is one perfect place where they always imbed themselves. Entwined in my socks right at the achilles tendon, right where my Sloggers hit the back of my foot. Every step is agony……….pushing that barbed-so-and-so deeper and deeper. It’s like a self-driving nail.
And then when you drop everything (literally) and try to disembowel the spurs from your sock, they leap (yes, they leap) into your thumb. Where they become permanently embedded, and stay, and fester for the next two months………..impossible to see or dig out.
Yep, that’s a Sand Spur. A little treasure from rural Florida.
(Let’s see if I can find a public domain picture of one……………….nope couldn’t find one). (Really who would want to consider them a photo opportunity?)-(I’ll just have to go take a photo—–at a distance, because they DO leap, I swear they DO.)
I have to fix the latch on the mailbox. I’ll take my camera out with me and catch these little boogers on Kodachrome—————(well, I got the photos/I picked a bouquet—–stupid idea—–I even had to pull one off of the hammer!!!!! The hammer!?!…………………..I kid you not!)
Sand Spurs—————Mother Nature’s poison blow-dart.
