woolly bear on patio screen
Photo by J. Harrington
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We’ve reached that time of year when those of us in the North Country need to keep our eyes open for woolly bear caterpillars. They’re black at either end, sort of copperyish brown in the middle and about two inches long. This is when they begin to crawl along roads, sidewalks etc., looking for a place to spend the winter months in a pile of dead leaves or something comparable. In case you’re interested, the woolly bear is the caterpillar of the Isabella tiger moth.
Yesterday we were blessed with rain. More, in the order of several inches, is forecast for tomorrow through week’s end. It would have been more helpful during the growing season, but we’ll take it and hope for a more balanced distribution next spring and summer.
Moths
Adrift in the liberating, late lightof August, delicate, frivolous,they make their way to my front porchand flutter near the glassed-in bulb,translucent as a thought suddenlywondered aloud, illumining the airthat's thick with honeysuckle and dusk.You and I are doing our bestat conversation, keeping it light, steering clearof what we'd like to say.You leave, and the night becomescluttered with moths, some tattered,their dumbly curious filamentsstartling against my cheek. How quickly,instinctively, I brush them away.Dazed, they cling to the outer darknesslike pale reminders of ourselves.Others seem to want so desperatelyto get inside. Months later, I'll findthe woolens, snug in their resting places,full of missing pieces.
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