- crown vetch blossoms
- common milkweed blossoms
- day lily blossoms
- birdsfoot trefoil blooming
- deer flies
- bird song that sounds like rusty hinges on a screen door
Photo by J. Harrington
We also have, although not in the same degree of abundance, butterfly weed in bloom, swamp milkweed starting to bloom in the back yard's "wet spot" (after believing for a year or two these plants had been lost), blackeyed Susans flowering, hoary puccoon in flower and some white flowers that I still need to identify. What we seem to be missing, in abundance, are butterflies, especially monarchs. Maybe soon?
Photo by J. Harrington
We're not sure what's going on, but it looks as though we have a pair, or maybe a trio, of bluebirds working on (re)nesting in the bluebird house from which tree swallows, earlier in the season, drove a pair of bluebirds. We will continue to observe with great interest and see what, if anything, comes of it. Since tree swallows are reported to migrate as early as July, and we haven't seen any for a few days, it's possible the swallows in the nesting box have headed South. Stay tuned! Clearly we need better sites and management of the "workforce housing" for our mosquito (and deer fly) control workforce. Prosperous cities aren't the only locations with crowded housing markets.
I tell myself softly, this is how love begins—the air alive with something inconceivable,seeds of every imaginable possibilityfloating across the wet grasses, underthe thin arms of ferns. It drifts like snowor old ash, settling on the dust of the roadwaysas you and I descend into thickets, flankedby the fragrance of honeysuckle and whiteprimrose.
I recall how my grandmother imaginedthese wanderers were living beings,some tiny phylum yet to be classified as life.She would say they reminded her of maidensdecked in white dresses, waltzing through air.Even after I showed her the pods from whichthey sprang, blossoming like tiny spiders,she refused to believe.
Now, standing beside you in the crowdedautumn haze, I watch them flock, emerge frombrittle stalks, bursting upon the world asyoung lovers do—trysting in the tall grasses,resting fingers lightly in tousled hair.Listen, and you can hear them whisperin the rushes, gazing out at us, wondering—what lives are these?
Thanks for visiting. Come again when you can.
Please be kind to each other while you can.