Quite Challenging Indeed!

In answer to a question about cameras, a naturalist in one of my Facebook odonate groups wrote, " Macro photography is quite challenging and takes a lot of time to learn and master."

You got that right, I wanted to write but didn't.

The truth is that I like learning hard things, like my still-feels-new camera and still-newer macro lens. So far, both have outscored me in a contest of skill.

But today's morning foray and some cooperative odes provided a much more successful than usual shoot. I am beginning to think I should just use this lens and forget the other one. I am finally discovering the "sweet spot."

On Days Like This

walking means stepping out of mind.

Animals kill others to survive, unlike people, who also murder.

Red Letter Day

I've never caught a red eye, but I've sure seen a lot of one lately -- on my own face. Week 4 of the mystery "infection" (?) and finally, despite the persistent itch, I am able to focus and look into my own eye without horror. The redness dims.

But the woods flame in odes balancing on twigs and plants and fungus emerging from heaped pine straw.

Halloween Pennant

Swift Setwing

Unknown Fungus (Tubifera ferruginosa or Red Raspberry Slime?

Each ode and the little raspberry lump join me in shouting Hallelujah! Maybe this is my graduation day from mystery ailment to rosy health!

Let Me Count the Ways

Dear Sue,

You're right: Cheston can be annoying in the same way a crowded state fair is -- loud, teeming with cursing and splashing children (in this case four boys who systematically caught and squeezed newts and then threw them like trash in the water), country music, pontificating adults carrying on the same irritating conversation we've both heard before, parents ignoring their children while sunning themselves well away from the water (periodically also cursing at said children), and a whole gaggle (30 at least) of young boys led by a Sewanee student who gathered them on the dam long enough for a picture and then clomped up to the picnic pavilion. Not only that, but I discovered that some bozo weed-ate clumps of the blackberry bushes along the run-off between dam and bridge. Why? And why so many loud, obnoxious, thoughtless people?

Your friend,
Robley

PS Lest I forget, I should name three good things: a chance encounter with painter and alum Claude Buckley (www.claudebuckley.comhttp://www.claudebuckley.com/aboutus.html#.VZ7kvPlVhHw) and former resident of JB's "cave" on South Carolina; deep purple blackberries bursting with juicy flavor and red ones ripening; and the first Halloween Pennant I've seen this summer.

PPS Parts of the lake are indeed silty, and it takes no scientist to know why: I watched four boys jump in, walk around, and generally roil up the lake bottom.

please note the color of the water

PPPS Remind me as I did you: go early or late.

What's in a Name?

Meet Celithemis eponina.

Ben Kolstad (http://benkolstad.net/?p=6059) writes, 

"The genus name, Celithemis, is a combination of the Greek words kelis, spotted (referring to the wing spots on most members of the genus), and themis, law, decree, order, presumably because this genus can be “ordered” or classified according to the pattern and number of spots on the wings, which are diagnostic.

"Eponina, the specific name, was the wife of Julius Sabinus, a Gaulish chief who attempted to overthrow the Roman occupation and was forced to flee, enduring a decade of privation and hardship, alleviated only by the devotion of his wife. When they were finally captured and sent to Rome, Vespasian executed Sabinus, and Eponina asked to be executed as well, a request that was granted. Plutarch called this the darkest deed of Vespasian’s reign, 'there was nothing during Vespasian’s reign to match the horror of this atrocious deed, and that, in retribution for it, the vengeance of the gods fell upon Vespasian, and in a short time after wrought the extirpation of his entire family.'"

Some folks call bugs by their scientific names. Me, I'll stick with Halloween Pennant. That's a name I don't have to look up!

Briefly, in a Small Window of Sunlight

I saw this 

and then this

and then I read this.

My head spins.

My heart too.

Solo

I live alone.

I dine alone.

I work in my own house, alone.

I sleep alone.

I walk each day alone, but every day encounter wonders -- of nature and man.

A friend told me today that his grandchildren became so excited by my Odonate blog posts last year that they, too, caught the "bug" of "bugging."

Alone, yes, but never lonely.

Never have I seen more than a single Halloween Pennant at Lake Cheston. We have something in common.

In Search of One Thing, Finding Another

I asked permission and was given it with this proviso: "Be careful. There are a lot of bad golfers on this course."

The cart track and the utility path took me downhill, below the most picturesque green, where I found the pond. Drained before the golf course was rebuilt, the pond shimmered today, encircled with flowers and thistle and cattails and leafy greenery all round. Missing, though, is the old bridge with its iron rails, access to the center of pond activity now cut off.

"What are you looking for?" the student asked.  "Odonates," I answered, guessing (rightly) that her waders and other gear suggested naturalist study. "You?" I added. "Salamanders," she said. "I'm doing a study, and I must say it's hard work. But fun."

When one golfer finished the third green and before others managed to shoot to it, I climbed up the hill and paused, taking in the view of the plateau and Shakerag Hollow, Roark's Cove and beyond. On my way back to the golf house where I started, three men stopped their golf cart and said, "We saw you up there. What were you looking for -- birds or balls?" "Dragonflies and damselflies," I answered. They looked puzzled, and one said "Ah!" as they drove off.

I am glad of the new course, the spectacularly lively pond, and the clutch of Halloween Pennants balancing on winds of changing weather. Sometimes change is good, even when challenging.

In Good Company

Confession: I'd rather spend ten minutes with a Halloween Pennant under a wide blue sky than ten minutes with most people I know.

At least, that's what I'd say today.

And, please: pass no judgments.