Spots before my eyes #phenology

The back yard is being continuously patrolled by 30, 40, 50, or more dragonflies. We can't identify any while they're on the wing. In fact, a quick search of the internets didn't turn up any field guides that weren't based on photos of dragonflies at rest. As the InsectIdentification site notes: "You know summertime has arrived when the Dragonfly and Damselfly make their appearance." That, plus the temperature at mid-day is in the mid-80's and climbing.

four-spotted skimmer

Photo by J. Harrington

It's probably related to some deep-seated character flaw, but every time we see squadrons of dragonflies patrolling the property, it reminds us to make up a new "tin foil" hat so the black ops helicopters can't read our thoughts.

According to the field guide Dragonflies of the North Woods phenology flight chart, the cruisers we're watching this last week of May could be any or all of the following (we love the names):

• Common Green Darner
• Beaverpond Baskettail
• Dot-tailed Whiteface
• Spiny Baskettail
• Springtime Darner
• Twin-spotted Spiketail
• Rusty Snaketail
• Four-spotted skimmer
• Common Baskettail
• Dusky Clubtail
• Stream Cruiser
• American Emerald
• Chalk-fronted Corporal
• Eastern Pondhawk
• Common Whitetail
• Twelve-spotted Skimmer

We finally checked the bluebird house. No eggs. In fact, it looks as though either the bluebirds haven't finished building this year's nest or they've abandoned a partially-completed nest and moved elsewhere. We'll take another peek in a week or so and see if there's any change.

Common blue violets have begun to bloom and lilies of the valley have been in bloom for the past several days.

Stay cool this weekend and remember what and who we're honoring. The battles to keep democracy safe from totalitarianism clearly aren't over. Some of the toughest remain to be fought on the home front.

the sonnet-ballad

Gwendolyn Brooks, 1917- 2000

Oh mother, mother, where is happiness?
They took my lover’s tallness off to war,
Left me lamenting. Now I cannot guess
What I can use an empty heart-cup for.
He won’t be coming back here any more.
Some day the war will end, but, oh, I knew
When he went walking grandly out that door
That my sweet love would have to be untrue.
Would have to be untrue. Would have to court
Coquettish death, whose impudent and strange
Possessive arms and beauty (of a sort)
Can make a hard man hesitate—and change.
And he will be the one to stammer, “Yes.”
Oh mother, mother, where is happiness?

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