Where Have They Gone?

Midsummer is sojourning here full of admirable color and heat.
The soil is baked to ashen dust, yet a powerful storm is on the way.
Some flowers do not fade in the heat of the blinding sun.
Some flowers stand tall and strong against the winds.
These are the few that I can photograph with consideration and patience.

Others blossoms are flighty and easily swayed
Having no firm convictions about place
While dropping petals with the smallest breeze.

The birds still sing, but with less energy and compulsion.
Their reward for abandoned love-making
Is endless food shopping and delivery.

As I pause resting on the edge of a stone
I hear a gentle repeated tapping/scratching just beyond my ear
And turn to see the fading sunflower leaf.
Ants harvesting seeds that have fallen caught on the raspy hairs,
Sunflower seed hearts so small from such a tall plant.

I see Mr. Bumble walking on his bed of nails
Extracting nectar from the crown of echinacea.
But where are the honey bees?

I see a fritillary drinking deeply from
A long purple flacon, all alone.
Where are all the butterflies?

It is always the little signs like these at the first, isn't it?
Such little signs.

Sunny Day

Taking a digital paintbrush to the sunflowers which I have managed to save, if ever so briefly in time.

A Boat Beneath a Sunny Sky

BY LEWIS CARROLL

A boat beneath a sunny sky,

Lingering onward dreamily

In an evening of July —

Children three that nestle near,

Eager eye and willing ear,

Pleased a simple tale to hear —

Long has paled that sunny sky:

Echoes fade and memories die:

Autumn frosts have slain July.

Still she haunts me, phantomwise,

Alice moving under skies

Never seen by waking eyes.

Children yet, the tale to hear,

Eager eye and willing ear,

Lovingly shall nestle near.

In a Wonderland they lie,

Dreaming as the days go by,

Dreaming as the summers die:

Ever drifting down the stream —

Lingering in the golden gleam —

Life, what is it but a dream?

Hot and Heavy

This summer heat and humidity has meant that I can go outside and just stand in the shade and within minutes sweat starts to trickle down my temple and into my eyes and ears.  Really.  I have showered so many times a day that I am worried I may start growing fungus all over!

Then, as I am pulling three foot weeds (which are now growing a foot a day) and deadheading flower blossoms (which bloom in the morning, sigh with limp petals in mid-day and begin to drop crispy petals by late afternoon), I have to be careful or I encounter these yellow fellows below.  I have destroyed a few of their webs unintentionally.  They build the strongest and largest capture units I have ever seen and there is nothing more breathtaking than getting some sticky web across your face or in your hair while you are focused on something else!  This garden tenant was really this large!

GOTCHA!

Splish Splash

I live in the mid-Atlantic which means the summers are long and hot.  This year we have had a good amount of rain which makes it easier on all the plants and animals.  When a week goes by without rain in such high heat, the animals begin their search for water.  There are a few springs in our woods and the deer seem to be able to get through marsh grass to those.


I have two bird water baths.  One in front and one in back of my yard.  Birds rely on these often, both for drinking and for bathing.  Yes, they do drink their own bath water!  It is fun to watch them splash and shake the droplets every which way.  


I keep the bird bath in the photo above clean.  Washing it with hose water and little bleach every so often, but certainly spraying it out at least once a week and filling with fresh water.  We are on a well, so I do not have to worry about city chemicals, either for me or the birds.


I have read that the 3% of birds that are marine species have salt-control systems because they spend so much time away from fresh water.   They can remove the excess water by using larger kidneys, oily lipids that break down in the digestive system to produce water, and salt glands that sit in bony pockets over the eyes that are important for the excretion of sodium chloride.  They must cry very salty tears!

It Is Inevitable

The hummingbirds are regular visitors to the feeders these days and the goldfinch are raiding the seeds from the fading zinnias.  I saw a dozen geese in the finger of the creek just yesterday.  Rains are now coming with greater regularity.  It appears that voluptuous lady with the hot wet kisses and the heavy fragrant perfume will soon be packing her silk butterflies and gossamer webs into that old trunk.  She will be heading on down the highway once again as she does every time this year.  Just when you feel she has overstayed her welcome and you are tired of sweating all the time, you get that impulse to want to hold on tight to her chubby hands with the well-polished nails for just another week or so.  

Farewell to the Fat Lady

Just when I think that I can no longer stand the heat and pulsing humid breath of summer in my face, just when I can no longer bear the light of the sun washing everything bright white, summer begins its departure. I have changed my rhythm to moving very slowly or at least, determinedly, toward whatever destination awaits in the shade where the air does not feel as though it is pushing on me like a wet blanket smothering whatever initiative I had before I left the house. I have portioned my chores into smaller units and no longer feel that I must weed each and every flower bed. The flowers are bending low from heavy rains or turning to rust or just forming heavy seed pods. The goldfinch have eaten most of the zinnias to bristly heads. The butterflies are the only ones who continue to dance like feathers across the lawn. Perhaps it is because they know how short their life is.

The garden holds the fall colors of red and yellow tomatoes and hot peppers and spaghetti squash and beans. The greens are gray and tired or turning to parchment beige. The insects no longer sing happy rhythms. They buzz with intensity like burning saws as though they were beginning the cutting of firewood for the cold nights ahead. All sound is dizzy percussion.

And then it happens. When I wipe my glistening brow as I pause from the harvest and look up at the tree tops and the sky, I notice something so slightly different that I cannot identify what it is. The angle of the sun has changed, the color of the sky is a different blue, and the high tops of the tulip trees begin to fan a cool breeze my way tossing a golden leaf here and there in the process. The cooler air kisses my hot forehead. I now realize that it is summer that has packed her heavy trunk and is dragging it away up the driveway followed by the sound of dried leaves in the wind. Suddenly I miss her and wish she would stay just a little longer.

Fall Cleanup

While watering the potted plants this morning in the cool, new fall air I noticed what I thought was a cocoon above the architectural stucco ledge that frames the top of the garage door. I took the hose and squirted hard to wash the detritus off the ledge...



and then as it started to wash away I looked again!


Whoops and sorry!!

Fall Prince

Stripes that zig and zag
Tiny black feet that pad and pad
Your true beauty waits.

Summer Sunset

Click on this for a high resolution sreen saver if you desire.

Morning Rush Hour

It is a cool early morning as summer wanes and the chairs on the deck are still wet with dew. I spread a towel and sit back to welcome the start of the day. High above flocks of swallows are heading somewhere nearby, perhaps to chase insects above the cornfield. A blue jay sits on a nearby oak branch working on his breakfast ground worm shaking away the dirt by banging it against the branch at his feet. In the distance across the river two osprey, resembling gray kites, swoop up the river and then down looking for their breakfast. On my right where the sun hits the trees first, a female cardinal finds a clear place in the warm rays and does not move for a long time. Nearer to the tops of the tulip trees directly above, a pair of hummingbirds complete their love-ballet against the blue sky zooming one way and then back and then like bee bombers dive and hide in the gold green leaves to complete their tryst. The forest rush hour has started.

Timeless Beauty

This love visits every day and drinks from my lantana on the deck. It's summer beauty is so short and special.

This is a gift from and at the edge of the river. I have two of these plants that have volunteered their summer beauty each year. Each blossom lasts only one short day. It closes in the late afternoon and bows its head as if forming a cocoon.

Summer Lovin'?

While checking the new plants, I found the salvia and Russian sage and Veronica are tempting the lovely swallowtail butterflies to visit.

This gentle fellow (gal?) is almost lovelier on the front side!

Then suddenly a second appears and they immediately tangle on the ground. Are they fighting or mating?


Soon one leaves and the other in either extreme ecstasy or pain remains behind on the gravel and I slowly approach. He/she gathers needed energy and soon flies off into the air.

An Evening

The fragile beauty of a summer evening as the sun begins its low glow above the silhouette of trees was the perfect time for sitting in a coasting canoe.

For a while we chased the reflection of the half moon up the river until we reached the end of a finger where the sanctuary begins. Small schools of bait fish bubbled ahead on the surface on each side of the bow. Quiet evening air was punctuated by the raspy call of the blue herons behind the marsh and later by the lyrical beauty of the warbler's call. We looked up to see a juvenile bald eagle without his balding color glide to land gracefully in the crook of a nearby tree becoming camouflaged against the darkening shadows.


The pink and purple surface of the water was gently rippled by the cool and welcoming breeze that also kissed our faces. Windows from houses nestled against the sheltering trees on the distant shore glowed warm and golden as the evening lamps were turned on.

Three blue herons glided smoothly ahead of us following the shoreline. One landed at the top of the tallest tulip tree and remained like a sentinel arching his neck and balancing his head in perfect yoga pose as we slid past below.

The sun's bright glow diminished rapidly, and reluctantly, we turned back skirting the gray fingers of fallen trees near the shore as we headed toward home.

Sometimes a Surprise

After the hectic weekend of guests and grandchildren, we decided a woodland walk was in order to calm our spirits and return our pace back to something more rhythmic and less jazzy. We discovered a new state park nearby that warrants a return visit. It seemed that the time of fungus is upon us.

News from the Homefront

(Warning: Pictures at the end of this blog may make you a little squeamish.)

The owl pictures did not work to discourage the bird. Red, the cardinal lunatic, was unintimidated and still comes tapping at my bedroom window around 6:00 A.M. most mornings. We have had loud argumentative discussions about this behavior...actually I have discussed and Red just flies away! I even tried spraying deer repellent on the outside windowsill and that did not keep him away. I was going to put those spikes that they have on the roofs and gutters of monuments to discourage pigeons, but my husband said that was going to far.

The other visitor, Mr. or Mrs. Raccoon, has not reappeared or been heard from for several days. The pest control people could find no sign of a large mammal in the part of the attic they could reach. But they also said the eve access above my bedroom was too hard for them to attempt any animal removal. It is tremendously hot up there for anything to live, so I am thinking the move-in was temporary due to a downed tree from a storm or he/she was actually pacing on the outside on the roof.

Mud wasps are making homes under the soffits as I see them coming in an out. It is right by the front door, so they will have to be removed.

Finally this friendly fellow swam all the way across the river to my dock just to say hello. This country life is quite exciting and I am such a popular girl these days!

Ms. Manners vs. Pachamama

Pachamama, the passionate one, has been very restless this past week. For two nights, she threw her hair around in grand sweeps and tore the leaves and branches from her shoulders scattering debris across the lawn making it look as though a love-war had happened during the night. A small dead tree was tossed across the driveway and another large branch across the path to the dock. It was almost as if she had sent a message that she did not want me to leave the house. I was able to move the small tree to the side, but the branch across the path to the dock is too precarious for me to try on my own as two other smaller branches cross it high above.

On the third night of this dance, the full moon emerged to bring Pachamama some peace but to test my patience. The moon light cast its pearl beam directly across my bed at 3:30 and has done so each night since then waking me up each time. It is too bright to sleep and since I have not yet sewn draperies for the bedroom, I must allow the moon her mischief and be patient.

Two nights ago just before the moon passed beneath the branch of a tree to beam gaily through the window once again, I was awakened by some rhythmic sound above my head. I could not make it out in my sleepy fog but it sounded like large drops of water hitting the ceiling above my bed. But it was not rain. There was no rain falling. The pattern was soft and rhythmic. One, two, three, four across the tray ceiling above my head and then it repeated but in the opposite direction. I realized that it was the padded pacing of some animal. Something was in the attic. It sounded too large and slow for a squirrel and although I pictured a bobcat due to the padded footfall, I knew it was not that. I am guessing it is a raccoon. I heard it for two nights, but last night it was quieter. Maybe it is some mystical beast that was thrown out of sphere by Pachamama!

Today I had to call the rodent removal people. I am too practical and too scared to let it set up housekeeping in the attic.

What is Pachamama trying to tell me? Is my footprint too large? I guess I will try to be more polite.

Simmering Senseless

If, like Haglet, anyone was interested in the owl experiment...it did not work. This same red devil has four favorite windows which he proceeds to tap and fly at each day. Usually in the morning. I must regroup.

It is now 91 degrees and climbing and Mr. Red is probably panting at full tilt in one of the tulip trees tyring to get his breath.

Early this morning while I was fixing coffee in my birthday suit (perhaps in dread of how hot the day was going to become) I looked out in the front lawn and very near the bay window Mr. Longears was busy eating away at the clover. We have lots of clover in the lawn and I think he is doing a great service. I just wonder what he will eat when all the clover is gone...yes, exactly what I was thinking. Maybe I shouldn't let him get too comfortable.

I took my coffee in hand and wandered out all beige with tan lines into the front yard. Being able to wander out in one's birthday suit is a cool advantage of living in the country--- all puns intended. Mr. Longears looked up briefly, made a determination about his situation and then continued his clover breakfast undeterred. A 61-year-old body with all its warts and scars is not going to frighten this fellow.

I have fond memories of this morning because now only a house fire could get me back outside before the sun wanes.

How Old Do You Have to Be to Have a Good Time?

We had the joy of a weekend visit from the Grandson due to the vacation of his day care person. He remembers our place well enough now and he is very comfortable being away from Mom and Dad. We introduced him to a large batch of wild raspberries we have near the side of the lawn. The next morning he headed straight out to the spoil. They were very sweet even though they are wild.


He wasn't quite adept at the picking so I had to help a little.



He got every last one and didn't even think of sharing!

We have a little 5-second rule on the raspberry that hits the ground. He was pretty good at dusting it off.

And then we went for a walk. Can you remember when you felt like he did?