Cloudless and cool. A red-spotted purple and a silver-spotted skipper work adjacent bergamot heads, whose tubes are beginning to dry up.
July 2015
July 30, 2015
The rain eases off at mid-morning, and once again a box turtle comes out of the woods and marches up the driveway with surprising haste.
July 29, 2015
The feral garlic top-heads have split their skins, unveiling clusters of beady eyes. The sun’s a glowing smudge. It’s going to be hot.
July 28, 2015
A bindweed flower is open in the garden—a white blunderbuss pointed, like the dog’s inquisitive snout, at the foggy woods.
July 27, 2015
Tussock moth caterpillars rappelling from a walnut limb. One changes its mind half way—a little white comma returning to its green sentence.
July 26, 2015
The box turtle whose territory my house happens to encroach upon sits in the driveway, yellow markings like a road sign in a foreign script.
July 25, 2015
Far off through the woods, the bell-like notes of three wood thrushes—young ones mastering the music of their tribe before they disperse.
July 24, 2015
A wasp flying in low sunlight: hind legs dangling bright orange, and behind her thin waist the black, banded abdomen shaped like a bomb.
July 23, 2015
Deep blue sky, with the sun gilding the treetops. A bumblebee circles the bergamot patch, her small engine running fine despite the cold.
July 22, 2015
A rare fine day—everything’s so clear, so bright! An enormous horsefly lands on my leg and for a long moment I study the blade in its mouth.
July 21, 2015
A new face in moss on the trunk of the big maple: bulbous clown nose, Mona Lisa smile. A dragonfly quarters over the permanently damp yard.
July 20, 2015
The wild black currants are succumbing to their usual wilt—an extra shadow eating them from the inside as the stream gurgles between them.
July 19, 2015
Now that thistles are going to seed, the goldfinches are nesting at last. Two males chase—streaks of crayon-yellow through the treetops.
July 18, 2015
A lone stalk of whorled loosestrife stands amidst the flattened stiltgrass, its blossoms overturned by last night’s storm. The stream roars.