Fall Color ABCedarian: Q

QUICKSILVER

Time spent

is well spent with creatures great and small.

Here's What I Was Thinking When I Saw This Little Fellow on the Hot Sand (and I Mean *Hot*)

Aren't you burning up? 

Why are you sitting here in the sun? 

You're sure a long way from the water. 

You sure are cute.

And tiny.

Holy cow, compensating for the bright sun is hard. 

What? The shot is so orange! 

Macro photography is so dadgum hard.

One more shot.

Ok, little fellow, I'll pretend I haven't been leaning in on you on this whole time and take the wide way around. 

Good luck!

An Intentional Walk, Unintended Consequences

I went back to the Lake Dimmick area, hoping to find another Vesper Bluet. I started at the big pond, where I saw only Blue Corporals and a number of Azure Bluets. So windy and cold were the pond and shore that I lost my hat several times and finally gave up. 

I walked down to the boat launch pull-off at the lake, where "snot grass" grows. Several Facebook friends noted that the only Vesper Bluets they had seen were bodies of water with lily pads. I found what I was looking for -- one female Vesper Bluet.

And something else: a feather pile dotted with water drops, atop of which a spider dragged her egg ball.

Then, a few feet away, I noticed the bird's carcass in the water, its bill still parted its feet spread and caught in the reeds.

I don't know the species; I'll leave that to someone else. I don't know what happened; no one can. What I do know is that I left my walk feeling oddly dislocated and tired.

I found what I hoped for, and I left feeling sad.

Are We Having Fun Yet?

I
Thirty-six hours. Four separate attempts. Five scratches, three on one leg, two on the other. Flea medication not applied.

BadAssCat 1, Robley 0.

II
Lake Dimmick stroll. Local friendly canine tags along. Jumps in, wades in, runs in every body of water. Pushes through vegetation. Disturbs odonates, including this Slender Spreadwing.

Canine 1, Robley 0.

III
Unknown Spreadwing. Perched a bit high on a hill. Only photography position shooting into light. Seventy-eight snaps. One almost decent.

Insect 1, Robley 0.

IV
Are we having fun yet? She was.

So Early in the Season

but in three hours today at Lake Cheston and the small Day Lake Road pond, I saw 24 species: Comet Darner, Common Green Darner, Carolina Saddlebags, Southern Sprite, Eastern Amberwing, Common Whitetail, Common Baskettail, Eastern Pondhawk, Widow Skimmer, Spangled Skimmer, Golden-winged Skimmer, Slaty Skimmer, Blue Corporal, Blue Dasher, Lancet Clubtail, Fragile Forktail, Violet Dancer, Powdered Dancer, Calico Pennant, Banded Pennant, Double-ringed Pennant, Azure Bluet, Amber-winged Spreadwing, and one county record -- the Unicorn Clubtail.

This is going to be a very good year indeed.

That Goes Double!

I
At the dump, the sanitary collection manager Tommy said in response to my comment about the beautiful weather, "I'll have to thank God twice for this day."

II
At Lake Dimmick, I had good luck twice: once when I saw a big dragonfly hanging low in the brush, sneaked close enough to snap several pictures, and get a lifer photo of a mature Springtime Darner; and second, when, hunkering to see the lake run-off pouring down into a tumbling creek, I turned and saw Powdered Dancers (only my second sighting ever).

III

I don't know about God, but I'll thank pure dumb luck or timing or eyesight for my double pleasures today.

"O look out on the fields

the harvest is ripe," Sister Gertrude Morgan wrote on a painting hanging in my bedroom. For reasons I don't understand, I stopped, worked my way over to the fence, and stood, looking out over the field becoming summer-colored, and heard Gertrude and Sweet Honey in the Rock.

The way the mind works, undulating like grasses in warm wind.

Holy Odonates, Batman!

Three in one quick morning: Lake Dimmick never disappoints.

My first-ever good snaps of Lancet Clubtails mating.

My first-of-the-season Violet Dancer.

My first ever decent photographs of a Painted Skimmer (seen for the first time, only briefly, last year at Lake O'Donnell).

And now to continue tallying (May 3):

Common Green Darner
Fragile Forktail
then Common Baskettail
Springtime Darner
next Blue Corporal
Carolina Saddlebags
Lancet Clubtail
followed by Common Whitetail
Azure Bluet

Southern Spreadwing

Comet Darner

Violet Dancer

Painted Skimmer

Of Two Ponds, Two Lakes, One Horse and Rider, One View, and Fall

I
The Day Lake Road ponds shimmer in morning sun, swollen with rain, becoming lakes nearly, and bursting with Autumn Meadowhawks, mating and ovipositing.

II
Lakes Cheston and Dimmick wear fall well.

III
Firecracker and her rider (wearing orange as protection from "juvenile hunters"), a chance friend I see every now and then, enjoyed the day as much as I. A nuzzle and a head rub while listening to a tale of Firecracker's "failure" as a walking horse prospect, I marvel at her good luck when just the right young woman found her, and saved her, and loves her.

IV
A crowd gathered at Green's View for one reason: to look.

V
Today, I'd rather walk or ride or lie under trees more than anything else I can name. Call me Smut Woman: I am a slut for Autumn.

Late Bloomers

One frost already, but not all blooms have gone the way of summer. 

At Lake Cheston, turtlehead appeared a few weeks ago, thanks to the College's new mowing plan. The dam now thickens with color and leaf, providing pleasure for insects and people alike.

At Lake Dimmick, this lovely purple flower pushes up through sandy soil. A quick email to a director of the Herbarium earned this response, "Soapwort Gentian-Gentiana saponaria." This name is meaningless to me, though its popular name lifts my spirits: harvestbells.





May these last flowers keep ringing a bit longer!

Walking with Friends

J and B joined me for a walk at Lake Dimmick, where one had been and the other not. He carried a strainer and on occasion scooped the pond or lake bottom for Odonate larvae and other signs of life.

Even though we walked from about 11:30 to 1:15, the temp was still cool and the wind strong. As a result, only the brave were visible: a couple of Swamp Spreadwings, a couple of Calico Pennants, one male and one female Citrine Forktail, several Autumn Meadowhawks (included a mated pair ovipositing), and a number of Common Green Darners.

I didn't get to see the Clamp-tipped Emerald, which I longed to show off, but just as I despaired, four darners appeared (three males, one female), and one hung from sumac, providing just the right seasonally striking contrast.

I had forgotten how enjoyable it is to be in good company!

Yes! A Thousand Times Yes!

Sometimes intentional walking meets success. 

A quick trip to Day Lake (Lake Dimmick) with one purpose in mind: stalking the Clamp-tipped Emerald. Same time, same small canal as last week, same hope of finding something spectacular.

A long time waiting, a long time slowly pacing, a long time looking, and then . . . this happened.

Yes!

That Kind of Day

when sky is so blue you remember if only a moment that it's only blue for us on Earth and not black and this blue is ultramarine and sun so bright it casts hard shadows all day sparkling water and burning fall leaves and grasses like dry ice, cool and hot colors all at once so creatures slip in and our like beach bathers only in search of heat not a tan, and my camera lens can't determine if there's too much light or not enough, and everything looks beautiful, especially the two Clamp-tipped Emeralds, those big dragonflies I see up close and personal for the very first time:

that's the kind of day it was.

Autumnal Equinox

9:29 PM CT tonight.

But fall has already begun with wind, cool temperatures, and a profusion of browns, reds, and golds.

It even brought a migratory visitor to Lake Dimmick. Though I can't prove it (because he never lit where I could find him), a Twelve-spotted Skimmer blew through, teasing me three times, diving right toward me and then soaring upward.

Other evidence do, however, prove fall's glorious jewel-like colors and defining shadows.

Let the fun begin!

Light and Shadow

1.
In art history I learned about chiaroscuro, the art of making something two-dimensional three-dimensional through the play of light and shadow. I have seen chiaroscuro at work. I have even been as close to a DaVinci drawing as I am to my computer screen, without intervening glass.

2.
Today, walking at Lake Dimmick, I moved from light patches into shadowed patches along a sinuous path, noting on the ground (where I looked for fear of stumps, roots, snakes) the sudden fluttering of a butterfly or sailing of dragonfly, recognizing them by their shadows.

3.
I found myself thinking about other images -- decisions that weigh, family losses, friends' crises, my own existential pondering (something that has shadowed my life for as long as I can remember) -- while I walked, lost in light too bright to focus and in shadow too dark to see the path's end.

4.
Shadow and light: sometimes a beautiful balance.

In the Here and Now

In today's New York Times, Perry Garfinkel describes opening a writing workshop with this direction:

At the top of a page, write the words ‘Here and now I am’ followed by an ellipsis. In the next five minutes write as many sentences as you can, each sentence beginning with ‘Here and now I am.’ The rules: no questions, no stopping, no thinking, no worries about logic or syntax and no cheating off your neighbor.

If you go blank, draw from your senses — what you see, smell, taste, hear, feel.

Here goes:

Here and now I am writing my 2,120th post for My Daily Snap, a ritual that lifts me like a swing, higher and higher, head back, laughing. 

Here and now I remember swinging as a child, and I love blogging like that, an infectious addiction, even though my feet hurt. 

Here and now, my feet hurt as they have since morning when, over my head a green heron ack-ack-acking across the pond, I slid part-way into the black loam, water soaking my socks, my camera aimed at another new species -- the Southern Spreadwing. 

Here and now, I smile, knowing that a famous person, Dennis Paulson, author of a major field guide to Odonates in America, verified my photo on Facebook. 

Here and now, I heard the heron's acking as applause, but it's the rush of wings, the gust of air brushing my cheek as a Slaty Skimmer races by, that makes my skin pucker. 

Here and now I feel dehydrated, not literally, but metaphorically: spent, I suppose. 

Here and now, still tired from looking for bugs, in wet shoes and socks, two cameras slung across my chest and back, I know I'll do it again tomorrow. 

Here and now, when I write have nothing to say of consequence other than noting the way the Southern Spreadwing turned a moment toward me as I reached in for a photograph or the way the second lizard, the one on the Lake Dimmick sign, waited and waited and waited as I approached, as if it knew I am no predator. 

Here and now, I have nothing to write, I think, but then when I sit at the computer and place my fingers on the keyboard, something happens and text appears. 

In the here and now of photowalking and writing I am part of the elements, and I feel whole.

Day 31: Another Day That Changed My Life

Gray Lake Dimmick offered up jewels today: a male Eastern Pondhawk perched on red against green, mating Double-ringed Pennants, and Southern Sprites, teeny-tiny damsels just within reach of a telephoto.

Obsessive compulsion?

Please sir, I want some more.

Day 2 of 40: Another Day That Changed My Life

Three hours among Odonates of thirteen species, humans of one (Sewanee-Soon-to-Be-Alums), and one discovery: I cannot hand-hold a 200mm telephoto. Notes to self: put tripod in car; don't sweat missed opportunities; enjoy trying. Till tomorrow.

I Stopped Counting

at a dozen. 

At Lake Dimmick, 
Question Marks 
flew, sunned, folded and unfolded wings, 
flitted like leaves 
scattered and scattering 
on gravel, sand, and grass. 
Perhaps many just emerged. 
A number looked fresh, bright, whole, 
but others' wings were already bitten and torn.
The Internet says to call
a group of butterflies 
a swarm, 
a colony,
a rabble, 
a flight, 
a kaleidoscope, 
a cloud.
Polygonia interrogationis:
I have no question,
only this exclamation:
O frabjous day!