Mid-summer in the backyard

It has not been a good year for butterflies in my backyard, a backyard that in previous years has teemed with the colorful insects. I blame the weather primarily for this absence. We've had relatively wet conditions throughout much of the year. Not that we've had heavy, torrential rains except on a couple of occasions but in most weeks we have had at least some rain. That may have made it difficult for some butterflies to reproduce. Even the butterflies that are normally ubiquitous in my yard have been scarce this year.

That includes beauties like the Gulf Fritillary, usually one of the most numerous of its kind here throughout the summer.

It also includes the little yellow butterflies called sulphurs, such as this Dogface Sulphur. In the past, they've been so omnipresent that we take them for granted and stop noticing. Until they aren't there.

Last year, throughout the year, I had a constant stream of Monarchs passing through and uncountable caterpillars on my milkweed plants like the one this female is enjoying. This year, until recently, I've seen very few Monarchs and none of their caterpillars.

And of the Monarch's cousin, the Queen, I don't recall seeing one all year.

In the last couple of weeks, the numbers have picked up a bit with fritillaries and sulphurs leading the way. I'm seeing quite a few swallowtails and skippers and more of the Monarchs now, so I have hopes that the year will end on a more positive note for butterflies.

Meantime, some other critters are having good years.

Dragonflies, for example. They seem to thrive on the weather we've had this year. Every time I step outdoors I encounter one or more.

And cicadas, of course. Nothing ever seems to slow them down. Their "songs" are the background music for a hot August afternoon.

But maybe the happiest of all critters this year have been the frogs, like this Southern Leopard Frog sitting on a lilypad in my goldfish pond. The frogs have expressed their happiness by reproducing. Prolifically!

These are just a few of the thousands of tadpoles currently inhabiting my little pond. I assume they are progeny of the leopard frogs, but there are other species of amphibians around the yard and some may be their offspring.

If you look a little closer, you may be able to see that some of these tadpoles have minuscule rear legs. They are on their way to becoming froglets. It takes several weeks from their hatching to actually becoming froglets able to live outside of the pond.

If all the tadpoles in my pond actually become frogs, my backyard is going to be knee deep in frogs!

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters! Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...

The Nature of Things

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