(Please note: For parts 1, 2, and 3, please follow the linked numbers.)
Just as I leaned in to snap a few photos of the beautiful yellow-green grasshopper (my favorite variety), James called from the opposite bank, "Love your wildflowers, Robley!"
"Me, too! Just love the College's new grounds manager!"
The flowers and stems set off the hopper to its best advantage, especially as it held its face up to the maroon and lime blossom cups.
But it was only after downloading and looking at the snaps on my computer screen that I realized an equally complementary and colorful creature lurked in the background. A caterpillar lounged just behind.
I really do love happy accidents, so much so that I hope to continue missing what's right there before my eyes. Even when they don't see, my camera does!
The storm gathered, rumbling, darkening, while I strode the dam, finding Widow Skimmers, Violet Dancers, Slaty Skimmers, Blue Dashers, and Halloween Pennants hanging on, despite threatening weather.
Just after lightning struck and before rain pummeled my car, I idled, charmed by the color-block farm field, lit briefly like a Hopper painting come south, promising something sinister on the way.
Hard rain stirs nerves, sending us all inside or aground.
unless it's the lake run-off channel where American toads sing and string eggs
or the dam where a fisherman said Shore is purty, ain't it?
or the trestle bridge where I saw a tiny bug (a midge?) struggle in a web, pulled it out, fingered off the sticky web, placed the bug on the bridge, and watched it fly away.
