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I was walking by the patio at the back of our house and a stray stone (and something else) caught my eye. When I looked more closely, it became clear that a frog was looking back at me. It was the essence of stillness, as motionless as that rock. The frog didn’t move as I took photos, and was still in the same spot when I left.
The big sunflowers are in the homestretch, and looking a bit peaked. Soon, there will be mature seeds in those heads – seeds capable of becoming a whole new field of sunflowers. Though I admittedly anthropomorphized in verse, viewing those heavy heads created a definite feel – perhaps even an understanding – that they knew their time was ending soon, but willingly sacrificed themselves to live on in their seeds. I’m sad, however, to see their cheery beauty fade.
Thank you, volunteer sunflowers, for gracing our pasture with your shining faces. You will live on.
Interested in learning more about the stages of sunflower development? Check out this brochure from NDSU Extension.
Disclosure: this pre-dawn scene is from Monday. The moon is now a waxing crescent, of course…and the new moon has come and gone.
I thought the shadowy illumination of the”dark” part of the moon was particularly interesting: it’s there, but only suggested – like many things at this time of the day.
The daylilies, so bountiful this year, have been gone for a couple of weeks now – which is why I was so surprised to find these hidden gems. I was actually checking on the progress of ripening elderberries in the towering bush that covers much of the pile when the flash of color caught my eye. Few flowers are orange out here, so I moved some debris and found these. How they survived and bloomed with branches and clippings covering them is a puzzle, but they did…and now, beauty lives in the brush pile, too.
About a half hour before sunrise technically occurs, morning chores begin. In this pre-dawn period, it’s dark, still, and very different from the way the farm feels when it’s light out. Eyes, used to interior lighting, need to adjust to the darkness and sometimes there’s a bit of stumbling around while trying to get bearings.
It’s a special time: wild birds begin stirring, young roosters start to crow, and the landscape is tantalizingly amorphous and mysterious. Sharp edges are softened, noises muted. And as dawn approaches – the glorious, changing colors in the sky, the wondrous event that’s unfolding – it feels like being front-row at a much-anticipated concert…and the star is about to enter the stage. 🌞
A big, buzzing bumblebee was making the rounds among the honeysuckle while I harvested other plants. It visited many flowers, but seemed interested in only a few. A picky bee, it seems!