A goldfinch lands on a hummingbird feeder and looks all around for seeds. The butterfly known as a red-spotted purple rests on a folding chair.
After days of humidity, a dry high. A bumblebee lands on the sunny side of a porch column and cleans her antennae.
Three Carolina wrens kvetching on and on in the heat. Up in the woods, a Cooper’s hawk chatters twice. Could they be nesting again?
A butterfly’s erratic flight-path is the main thing distinguishing it from the odd falling leaf in this humid air saturated with birdsong.
Cloudy and damp. The catbird is touring his latest improvisations all around the yard. I’m hearing strong towhee and wren influences.
Sunny and humid. The strangled cries and croaks of ravens, at least four of them, wheeling just above the treetops.
Light rain. The towhee who usually taps on the windows appears in the garden with a long yellow caterpillar dangling from his bill.
Another gorgeous morning. The bird songs don’t change when the sun goes in, but it’s only then that I hear their melancholy undertones.
A spicebush swallowtail careens through the yard, where bracken fronds nod in three directions. A downy woodpecker upside-down on a limb.
If the sun isn’t going to shine, we still have the irises, the evening primroses, and a goldfinch fresh from his bath: a trifecta of yellow.