Stinging nettles (Urtica Dioica) aren't specially famous for their flowers. This is not surprising for they dangle uninterestingly and herald tattiness. No-one would ever dream of bringing them into the house to look pretty in the middle of a dining table. If the wind hadn't been waggling them about I would have taken their portraits so you could see what I mean. Instead, my memory card has filled with green blur after green blur after green blur and the blurs are are so dreadfully blurry they couldn't even be considered artistic.
New leaves are arriving. New plants. And the wind has played on. But if it were to leave them alone it wouldn't be blowing pollen between male and female flowers and any seeds which managed to form would drop in a pile at their feet instead of being thrown around. The reproductive life of the nettle family would be arrested. Banning the wind in October might, therefore, be a tempting option for those with omnipotence up their sleeves. On the other hand . . . there are those tough, long, yellow roots from which more nettles spring without its help . . . .
But I've managed, at last, to catch a glimpse of seeds on a few standing-still nettles. But just a glimpse. Another time I think I'll chop a few down and take them home and lay them out and photograph them that way . . . but it wouldn't be the same.
If you'd like to know more about nettles, the University of Wisconsin has dedicated nettle pages for its students.
