Heat, humidity, thunderstorms, tornado watches, deer flies, smoke from Canadian wildfires -- must be Summer in the North Country. At least the air conditioning has kept working so far, although that hasn't done much to dissipate the heat under my collar generated by all the nonsense emanating from the political sector this week.
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| four-spotted skimmer dragonfly
Photo by J. Harrington |
I did a quick check yesterday and learned that many (but not enough to satisfy me) creatures feed on deer flies. Last summer and this one we've had a superabundance of deer flies and a sparsity of dragon flies. I have no idea what's going on there except I like it better when there's more dragonflies eating deer flies so there's fewer deer flies trying to eat me. Plus, I just like dragonflies.
We've finally started to see some wild turkey poults with the hens. It's obvious the poults have no idea wnat a motor vehicle is all about but they do a pretty good job of following "mom" into the weedy roadside ditches and disappearing. The pale bracts of spotted horsemint (Monarda punctata) have become obvious in the fields behind the house.
We're rapidly approaching the festival of Lughnasadh on August 1. Summer begins to slide into harvest season which flows into Autumn. This summer has been one of the least enjoyable I can remember, compounded by the fact that I've yet to wet a fly line (see first sentence above).
The Dragonfly
by Louise Bogan
You are made of almost nothing
But of enough
To be great eyes
And diaphanous double vans;
To be ceaseless movement,
Unending hunger,
Grappling love.
Link between water and air,
Earth repels you.
Light touches you only to shift into iridescence
Upon your body and wings.
Twice-born, predator,
You split into the heat.
Swift beyond calculation or capture
You dart into the shadow
Which consumes you.
You rocket into the day.
But at last, when the wind flattens the grasses,
For you, the design and purpose stop.
And you fall
With the other husks of summer.
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Please be kind to each other while you can.

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