Overcast and humid. An odd-patterned ladybird in the garden turns out to be just an invasive harlequin. I delete the pictures from my phone.
Warm enough for a ladybug to walk at half speed. The distant croak of a raven. A cloud comes over the ridge, towing its shadow.
Warm sun, cold breeze. I watch a ladybug’s slow ascent of a porch column. From the back of the house, thawed ice collapsing in a downspout.
November 1st, and the stream’s gurgle sounds somehow different. A Halloween ladybug wanders the rectilinear wilderness of a porch column.
Between rains, a harlequin ladybug wanders up and down a porch column, seemingly averse to stepping out onto a floor the color of its back.
Mild and overcast. A ladybug flies by, red elytra raised like the doors on a DeLorean. A red-tailed hawk glides low through the treetops.
Windy and cold. A ladybird beetle creeps slowly across the porch floor, warmed by intermittent sun. Buds swell yellow on the lilac bush.
Jays, crows, and a raven: the solstice soundtrack. When I open my laptop, a red bead of a ladybug is huddled among the black keys.
The air is hazy but cool. Asian ladybugs fly back and forth, orange elytra aglow. A jay forages in the leaf duff, bluer than the sky.