Weather Report

Dense fog is what was projected.

I would have to admit that this time they nailed it.

Briefly the world darkened.

From my chair on the library porch

my eyes left the screen

my fingers rested on the keyboard.

I watched tiny drops of moisture float past,

briefly coating my teacup.

Soon it lifted and the world returned.

Foggy Morning

Not far beyond night's darkness I push the limits of vision to pierce the morning fog.

Returning my stare, dark bovine eyes look with faint wonder.

While above, eyes, much better than mine, see clearly.

Rain's Aftermath

After a beautiful but hot and humid day, the rain that, all day, had threatened to come, came. The temperature hovered close to ninety throughout day as Jeff and I mowed. About five o'clock I left to go pick up my mother-in-law from the hospital. While I was in Marietta getting Martha loaded into the car, Jeff was running for shelter from the driving rain that forced him finally to stop mowing. Then, around 7:00 pm the sun decided to return. The evening warmed up, with much of  the moisture on the ground  evaporating into a soupy, steamy, oxygen-depriving fog.

 

It took my breath as the liquid "air" forced its way into my lungs with each breath I took.  The natural, free sauna fogged up my glasses as I tried to take some photos. According to the clock, it was still supposed to be daylight and the sun knew it.  Though the fog tried in vain to bring about an early darkness, the sun won out by eventually piping the light in through the trees.

As the light's intensity grew, much of the fog dissipated and birds who had had perched quietly in the trees now felt free to sing with abandon.

Maybe it was because they had so little time left until dark or maybe it was from a joy brought in by clean bright sunshine, but the birds sang like they were auditioning for a part on Glee. Cardinals, towhees, and mockingbirds sang from the woods while phoebes and wrens vied for spots on the barn rafters. An indigo bunting picked a high spot at the top of a magnolia tree where he repeated his song over and over in case anyone missed it the first time.

In the sky the clouds were celebrating.  They puffed and glowed replacing the blue with their marshmallow white forms.

The weight of the rain and fog brought down the grass in our hay field.  Some of it will pop back up as it dries, but most is down until it is cut and baled.

The sun finally sets and turns the day over to the fog and the night.

Going Out The Gate

Today lets go right on through the garden and out the trinity gate to see what the woods holds for us  on this foggy morning.

At 6:30 am, the sun is merely a strong suggestion.  Like a shy bride it peeks through its veil of moisture laden fog. 

Light touches our shoulders as we step onto the mowed path  while the leaves and branches drip with heavy foggy dew. To our left we can see the future. This is where two hundred trees were planted by Jeff and me a few years ago. There is little proof of our work. Hemlock, walnut, oak, hazel nut, and cherry trees hide their potential among weeds.  There are some larger trees, remnants of the forest that was roughly timbered before it became ours.  Looking to the left we notice a scarred tulip poplar, damaged by a log skidder or falling timber.For now, we see mostly weeds and volunteer poplar trees growing amid the brambles that promise a few blackberry pies.

Beside the path grow many Mayapples including several like this one below that has been changed either by an outside source or a mutation.  Does everyone have some of these or is this a local happening.  I've been noticing speckled Mayapple leaves for about five years.

 Water is not the only thing falling on the leaves.

Tiny blossoms, like stars have been caught by a giant green hand.

 

The leaves also have provided a place for this tiny moth resting after what was probably a busy night.

 

As we look to our feet we spot a clover opened to its full beauty.  At first sight, the flower seems very small, but it is all in our perspective. To its visitor it must seem large. Do our homes seem so small from above? We do miss alot when we forget to stop and watch, don't we?

 

But there is also danger lurking nearby. As we tread among the enemy we must be careful.  This is why we wore our socks and long pants, isn't it?  This year's crop of poison ivy is very healthy.  I've read that the poison ivy is becoming stronger.  All the extra carbon dioxide is food for its growth.  The past couple years poison ivy has become more resistant to herbicides and allergic reactions to its oil have become worse.  We will be careful.  I, for one, will dump my jeans promptly into the washer when I get home. But let's not think any more about the three-leaved menace.

How much better to see this lovely daisy, not quite fully opened as it displays its sharply contrasting colors and a clear display of Fibonacci pattern in that each floret is oriented toward the next by 137.5 degrees or the golden angle displaying a pattern of interconnecting spirals that is the most efficient way to pack florets onto one flower.  But enough science. I want just admire it's beauty.

The sun is gaining force as we reach the midway mark in this morning's walk.  Stepping onto the gas line right-of-way we look between the trees toward the hay field on the top of the hill and are greeted by the type of light that film makers use in their attempts to show us heaven.  This is the scene where the hero dies and "sees the light." 

 We don't have to die to see the light.  We just have to get up early, take the walk and pay attention.

By the time we tramp through the weeds of the gas line, my jeans have become so heavy with dew that they threaten to fall down with the weight of the moisture.  So it is back through the woods until we spot home through the leaves at the edge of the woods.

I have no intention of crossing through the tall, wet, tick-laden grass. but choose, instead to skirt the field and come into the yard past the rows of planted wildflowers now glowing golden yellow in the morning sun.

The sun is up and beaming brightly as we complete our circle and are back at the garden yard gate. 

Lets go inside. . . but no, there is no time left today. 

We'll save that for tomorrow.

Out of the Fog

The dry autumn weather has been broken by a light rain lasting all night and even now continues as a drizzle surrounded by fog. The fog and oncoming cold do not entice me to stay out long. The mourning doves are still hunkered down in the spruce tree waiting for hunger to draw them out.  I stepped outside just long enough to catch one before it ventured out.  I also couldn't resist a photo of the trees behind the barn, almost hidden within the fog.  The rest of the day will be spent inside catching up on work that needs to be done and checking out the bird feeders.

It has been a good fall for watching the feeders.  Evidently the forest mast is low this year, meaning that there are not enough nuts, seeds and fruits for the wildlife.  In Wood County we have noticed how much the squirrels are traveling.  Many have ended up as road kill while searching farther afield for storage food.  At our home the squirrels are somewhat segretated.  The red or fox squirrels live in the woods in front of the house and the gray ones live behind the house.  This year I have seen both running across the large grassy expanse in search of food.  Our two feeders contain sunflower seeds. One feeder is somewhat squirrel proof while the other is more like a squirrel fast-food restaurant.  The red and gray squirrels eat together, side by side, returning to their own territory each time I venture out to "shoo" them away. While they are enjoyable to watch, it is too expensive to feed them.  At one point I have had five at once accompanied by four chipmunks.  The squirrels empty the feeder in about an hour - the same feeder that will feed the birds for several days. 

At night there are even more visitors to the feeder.  The neighborhood skunk arives about dark blatently ignoring our lights and noise. By bedtime the possom has come and gone, followed later by a local raccoon. Late in the night the deer stand on hind feet and add the seeds to their diet. The raccoon and skunk are a bit of a rabies concern.  I once read that you should assume that all skunks have rabies.  I don't know how true that is, but it probably isn't a good idea to encourage them to hang out so close to the house.  I do like that skunk though.  Early last summer we saw her heading across the field in the early evenings accompanied by several babies. I admire her brazen confidence. And she is beautiful.  Really she is and without a bit of stink so far.  I have to remind myself to be cautious and not mistake confidence for tameness.

In the daylight chipmonks are, by far, the cutest visitors.  They are wound so tightly that that bursting seems to be a means of transportation.  One pair comes from near our compost pile behind the house.  I've watched it run under the back spruce trees across the back yard, under the porch then out the front of the porch to the feeder. Their vacuume cleaning action serves to fill their cheek pockets until I am sure they will explode.  Just before exploding, the chipmonk bursts back under the porch then out the back and to wherever the sunflower seed storage facility is.

The most exciting visitor this year has been a dangerous one. One Sunday morning Jeff and I observed a perigrine falcon in the maple tree watching while a house finch huddled very still under the eave of the feeder. After about 15 minutes, the finch tried to escape, drawing the falcon and becoming its breakfast. The falcon has returned a few times causing the yard to become very quiet and still.