Oh deer - fly time! #phenology

During our post-lunch walk this mid-day, the dogs kept asking us which we liked least:

• hot, humid weather with an abundance of deer flies and mosquitoes, or


• windy, blizzard-like weather with a wind-chill approaching minus 20℉, or


• wet, sloppy, slippery freezing drizzle coating the surfaces on which we walk and drive

The conversation continued for some time, sort of flowing from season to season (Summer, Winter, Spring/Autumn). We were having a difficult time deciding until one deer fly bit the back of our hand while another attacked the dog's muzzle, leaving the dog with a puffy welt. The one on the back of our hand wasn't quite quick enough and will never lap another drop or dribble of blood. As of today, our collective assessment is that hot, humid, buggy weather is the worst. We reserve the right to change our assessment come late Autumn (freezing rain), mid-Winter (bitter cold), or early Spring (freezing rain again).

The local dragonfly population (deerfly predators) seems to have plummeted over the past few weeks. We're not sure whether that may help explain the increase in deer fly population but suspect not. Perhaps it's time to see if the dogs will let us spray them with permethrin, since it's claimed to be effective on deer flies and safe for dogs. The DEET we resprayed on our hat today certainly wasn't an effective deterrent. The deer flies collected under the hat brim to get out of the breeze.

will this be a good mast year?

Photo by J. Harrington

On a more cheery note, this morning's rain showers ended before it was time for the post-breakfast dog walk. Acorns are developing on the oaks and our wild raspberries are ripening. Plus, a couple of days ago we spotted a bluebird in the yard, feeding(?) on something or other in the grass. We haven't seen one for weeks and weeks so we were pleased to have even a glimpse of this bluebird of happiness. Further, one of the oriole fledglings has taken a liking to bathing in the bird bath. That's been fun to watch since most of the bird bath action to date has been birds (and squirrels) drinking from it rather than bathing in it.

The Children

By Mark Jarman

The children are hiding among the raspberry canes.

They look big to one another, the garden small.

Already in their mouths this soft fruit

That lasts so briefly in the supermarket

Tastes like the past. The gritty wall,

Behind the veil of leaves, is hollow.

There are yellow wasps inside it. The children know.

They know the wall is hard, although it hums.

They know a lot and will not forget it soon.

When did we forget? But we were never

Children, never found where they were hiding

And hid with them, never followed

The wasp down into its nest

With a fingertip that still tingles.

We lie in bed at night, thinking about

The future, always the future, always forgetting

That it will be the past, hard and hollow,

Veiled and humming, soon enough.

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