A multi-media account of my travels through life
A soggy hummingbird gives me the eye during our two days of constant rain. Thankfully it was constant and not torrential but it was seriously constant and it made it tough for our friends who live in trees. Where do they go when night falls? Certainly some are minding nests and protecting young ones. Last night must have been a long one because the rain did not cease. First order of business when the rain stopped? Off to Tractor Supply for more birdseed, of course. ❧
It has been a wet day here in Western North Carolina. Wet and cool. Natives are already predicting a long, cold winter. But for the moment it is still summer and there are baby birds to feed. Today my feeder was like a drive-thru at a fast-food restaurant. At one point I counted eight cardinals gathered round the feeders. Some of the males flew in to frighten the poor house finches who look so miserable in weather like this. Once the finches were gone the cardinals fed peacefully in some pre-ordained order. Who knows how all these things work.
The hummingbirds have also been in and out all day. That’s one of them in the picture. Notice the raindrop on his head. Hummingbirds rarely feed at the same time. They must have “little bird syndrome” because they are quick to drive away the other hummers. I suppose they each get enough. There were at least three today and I spent so much time observing them that I began to notice the traits and slightly different coloring.
There were at least 13 species of bird at my feeders today. It was a good day, despite the weather ❧
My previous post (Image #258 – Indian Pipe Emerging) prompted a good friend to send me an email that said, in part,
Your image reminded me of a crocus, while some of the other images on the net looked so much like fungi I could hardly believe they were plants. What a wonderful world this is, filled with so many remarkable and beautiful things for those who have eyes to see. Getting the big picture is important, but you will never get the big picture if you don’t also study the small things.
Indian Pipes are sometimes called “Ghost” or “Corpse” plant because of its remarkable lack of color or, more accurately, chlorophyll. According to Wikipedia:
Instead of generating energy from sunlight, it is parasitic, more specifically a myco-heterotroph. Its hosts are certain fungi that are mycorrhizal with trees, meaning it ultimately gets its energy from photosynthetic trees. Since it is not dependent on sunlight to grow, it can grow in very dark environments as in the understory of dense forest. It is often associated with beech trees. The complex relationship that allows this plant to grow also makes propagation difficult.
A delicate Indian Pipe emerges in the forest. There are so many “little things” on the forest floor these days. Yesterday I shared a broken bird’s egg and today this small Indian Pipe. Stay tuned for more tiny things from the forest floor. ❧
A successful birthing? It would seem that way. The small remains of a bird’s egg graces the forest floor. Live long! Prosper! ❧
Balanced on tree tops, July’s super moon rises over the hill by my home. ❧
Summertime is in full swing here in the Northern Hemisphere. There is bounty everywhere. This particular caterpillar was enjoying the leaves on a sugar maple. All the books say it is among the “most common” caterpillars and this fellow was not hard to find, munching away just a few feet from the front door of the house. It will morph into the Polyphemus Moth with a wingspan of up to 6 inches. Amazing. ❧
An Indigo Bunting, adult male. I can’t recall sighting an Indigo Bunting before this season. A friend has told me she saw one in Manatee County but I can’t recall ever seeing one before. So, this is an extra special event. I apologize for the graininess of the image. (SPOILER: Geek talk ahead.) I had boosted the ISO rather high in an attempt to capture images of fireflies. In my excitement I forgot to check all the camera settings. But on some levels I like this shot being grainy. It seems more real.
At any rate, I have now identified an Indgo Bunting at the feeder which brings the “life list” for the feeder to about 20 birds…20 and hoping. ❧
I’m back at Fawn Hill in western North Carolina where spring has arrived. You can almost feel the land exhale in a collective sigh of relief. Today it is cool and rainy but on Saturday we had a very nice day with sun and mild temperatures. Tango and I decided to take a walk in the neighborhood.
Green grass is popping up and Potts Branch, the stream in the center of this picture, is swelling with plenty of spring rain. The old shed up the street from our house seems warmer in the spring air but is still very foreboding to me. I half expect Jud Fry to walk out. If you’ve never seen the 1955 movie Oklahoma you won’t know what I’m talking about but I can tell you that Rod Steiger made a lasting impression on an eight-year-old girl and smokehouses still give me the willies.
But I digress. This is about spring! Nature celebrates spring in many ways and humans follow suit. There are some who make bold proclamations, like these magnificent blooming trees. They are, I think, bradford pear trees. I suspect their owners hold their breath every winter, praying that an ice storm won’t take them out. They seem vulnerable on the hill crest but they are beautiful.
Lots of people enjoy the forsyth bush. And why not? Anything that screams “Yellow” with such exuberance is okay in my book.
And daffodils are always in abundance. The previous owner of our land planted quite a few around the property but they are the miniature variety and most had faded by the time I got back. Down the road a bit, however, I found this great stand. So many eager faces, they make me think of children vying to be on camera.
So many beautiful flowers at this time of year.
And a final blossom, just peaking out, was found on one of our apple trees. It holds such promise. Yum, I can already taste their fruit. ❧
Anyone who has ever traveled for an extended period or has a second home knows the anxiety of return. You’ve made all the preparations and you hope that all will be okay when you walk back through that door. But this is life and things happen…things beyond our control.
So it was that I set out on Thursday to return to my home on Fawn Hill in Franklin, North Carolina. It had been seven weeks since I locked the door and headed south to Florida. My good friend and neighbor had looked out for things but, still, there was some anxiety. At first things seemed okay. Everything was here, the utilities were working and, most fundamental, the structure was still standing. It wasn’t until the next day that I discovered my home had been invaded.
The invader was not human, mammal or insect. It slipped into my home under the guise of commerce. It was … they were … catalogs! OMG, there were stacks of them. Some were old familiar friends — L.L. Bean, Land’s End, Duluth Trading. But the majority, the hordes, were cheap, unfamiliar competitors with cute names like Soft Surroundings or Woman Within. The latter felt compelled to send me two identical catalogs with different covers. There was Viking Cruises with travel tours I will never be able to afford and Serengeti with cute, too cute, stuff I will NEVER need. A dozen unwanted visitors in seven weeks time. Here they are.
I trashed them immediately. Like some unwanted insect that you grind under your heel I cast them into the recycle bin with disdain. I had never asked for them; I had never bought a thing at Maryland Square, Sahalie, Cabela’s or Footsmart (two catalogs!). Why did they descend on me? Initially I blamed it on a gift received from a friend that was, undoubtedly, purchased from a catalog of this ilk. Perhaps it was mail list companies that had been informed, courtesy of the U.S. Post Office, that Rita D. died years ago and Alice now lives in her place. The catalogs don’t care. If I’m not here they will happily be received by “Current Resident.”
What a scourge. I awoke in the night and actually found myself thinking about them! OCD brought on by blind capitalism. I realized, as the quiet mountain night surrounded me, that I was under attack. It wouldn’t stop with these twelve. They were hucksters and had already sold my name to others. Counter-attack was necessary. Like any invasion you MUST beat them back ASAP.
So this morning I tore off the back covers (one of which admonished me to “Please Recycle”!) and returned each one to the sender marked “Please remove me from your mailing list.” Will it work? Probably not at first. Catalogs are like roaches. Keep beating back. ❧
Alice's WanderLand 