Shadows

Dragon flies eluded me all afternoon -- lighting just out of reach in too bright sun and dark shadow, landing briefly on my shirt and then lifting off, soaring above my head to a high branch, floating across the creek in Abbo's Alley. But the shadow of one dragon fly on a leaf's sunny side, halfway up my own street, made the frustrations of lost shots worth the waiting.

Fleur de Glas

A Wartrace, Tennessee gardener and glass artist composes delicate flower arrangements pressed in glass.

The 3 1/2 X 2 inch garden in the kitchen window grows cheer on yet another blustery gray day.

The Joy of Naming That Bug!

A gloriously hot afternoon and one hour on the deck brought delicious pleasure in the company of another of the little fellows I have been sighting everywhere.This time, Christmas came early: with his electric green and yellow exoskeleton and black-and-white spat-striped antennae, this small grasshopperish member of the Orthoptera family (think grasshopper) luxuriated in a bed of crimson dahlia and allowed me to snap away. Later, analyzing the photographs, I realized that I wasn't seeing a stilt bug. I saw the grasshopper signs (ornamental armor, jaw, stilty legs, and "mouth" parts) and emailed my friend Jill."Look at Orthoptera," she said. "Check out katydid nymphs." Lo and behold, bingo, eureka, let the bells jingle!
It's a Scudder's Bush Katydid nymph, all right, and they're all over the place! I can't wait to hear them sing!

Hover Flies Redux

The coreopsis now tempt the bees,

and the garlic flowers prove attractive to the tiny hover flies.

A few moments in their number brighten a rainy day.

Hover Flies

Hover flies, flower flies, syrphid flies, drone flies -- by any name, they do more than hover: they dart and flit and zoom. Like the bee flies that made my crabapple their home, these love the impossibly yellow-red-orange flowers into which they fumble.

Flying Time

has returned with the butterflies.

Today's specimens, three skippers, flitted in The Lemon Fair garden.

Glanced fleetingly on the wing, I see stocky brown butterflies. Up close, however, they reveal a scruffy grunge-band look with bad hair, patchy skin, sleepy eyes.

When one lit on my shirt for a few minutes, I took advantage of my opportunity for extended study.

What a surprise to find such a comical character lurking beyond the flying.

Like father, like

daughter.