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It’s been very dry here – so dry, the grass is beginning to look like hay, wan and crispy. Clouds gathered this afternoon, angry and threatening, displaying the glowering undersides that portend storms. Unfortunately, we’ve had near misses with storms recently, so I refused to get my hopes up. And then, it came.
I’ve been trying for some time now to photograph the Monarchs that flit about the pastures. They always seem to foil my hasty photographic attempts by flying off as soon as I almost have the shot lined up on my phone – and they won’t let me get very close, adding challenge to an already difficult endeavor. Today, though, this one let me get close enough for this photo. Maybe it was under the spell of the red clover nectar it was sampling…but regardless of the reason, I seized the opportunity, gladly. It’s butterfly season here: all sizes, shapes, and colors mingle in the pastures. And each one is welcome.
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.