Tuesday, September 22, 2026

Summer's lease

In Sonnet 18 Shakespeare wrote, "And summer’s lease hath all too short a date" which always comes to my mind at the autumnal equinox which occurs a little after 8pm here which is 1am Wednesday at the prime meridian.  Today was mostly cloudy, warm, and intermittently breezy.  I swam in the late morning and rescued two ground beetles and a two-lined spittlebug,  Afterward as I dripped, the sun found a rent in the cloud cover.  I saw a dark butterfly that never alighted and a small skink that flowed down the step.  The usual seed eaters visited.  A squirrel had an itch.   

 

 

Monday, September 21, 2026

Clouding over

I got outside in the late morning and caught the last of the sun.  Two black ground beetles and a stupid field cricket were all I found in the water.  The cricked jumped back in twice before it finally went the other way.  The romance had gone out of the cardinals' relationship and he made her wait to eat.  I saw a dark butterfly several times but couldn't be sure what it was..  There was also a dark skipper, much smaller.  

 

Sunday, September 20, 2026

Waxing gibbous

The bullfrog was buried in the leaves that had collected in the skimmer.  When I pulled it out, the frog jumped out and landed on the hot concrete and kept hopping.  More leaves were floating and one, to my disgust, was being ridden by a two inch mulch roach.  The only other rescue was a small dark moth.  I got photos of none of these.  After dark, I took a few pictures of the moon which was past the first quarter and 67% illuminated.  



Saturday, September 19, 2026

Hot sun

Thinking that the sun would be less intense this close to the equinox, I didn't wait for shade.  The larger bullfrog awaited me in the skimmer.  It acted lethargic but eventually it hopped off my palm and into the water.  I didn't see it again.   A skink rafted on a sinking leaf and I assisted it onto a rescue stick so it could have the satisfaction of saving itself.  A field cricket was also rafting so I set its leaf raft on the concrete.  I also fished out a couple of black ground beetles and a mint moth.  Something tickled my back and after brushing it off  my skin, I saw it was a very tiny spider.  The long-haired yellow cat sneaked past while I was swimming and I yelled at it.  An egret flew behind the trees and something that might have been a kite soared in the hazy blue sky.  The seed eaters were all I saw at the feeders.  Squirrels were busy up in the trees.  The only photos I got were plants.  



Friday, September 18, 2026

Too busy

Yesterday I didn't get outside till very late.  There was a dead frog in the water.  One monarch caterpillar was still feeding.  Today I was a little earlier but all I found swimming was one black ground beetle.  Neither I nor a paper wasp could find any caterpillars.  A few mint moths flitted around the milkweed.  The Berkley's polypore appeared fully developed.  The beautyberries were ripe.  One milkweed pod had opened.  



Wednesday, September 16, 2026

Caterpillar hunter

Both the air and water had cooled though the sun was warm.  I fished a few beetles out of the water and chased off a frog.  One foolish monarch caterpillar ate all the green pod enclosing immature milkweed seeds.  I was thinking that it was "eating the seed corn" when I notices a more immediate danger.  A Guinea paper wasp was hunting caterpillars around the milkweed.  They chew up caterpillars and other soft insects and feed the mash to the grubs in their paper nest.  The monarch caterpillar had created a big sign that it was nearby.  I saw a couple of other monarch caterpillars that were sticking to leaves.  



Tuesday, September 15, 2026

Crabby

In the late afternoon, the sky was very deep blue.  The water was full of tree detritus, leaves, pine needles, chewed acorns, cherry stems,  cedar sprigs, and old catkins.  I found one of the black swallowtail caterpillars drowned.  I also found a little fiddler crab with a body no bigger than my thumbnail.  It pinched my palm hard enough to leave tiny punctures, and it left its big claw fastened to me.  I nevertheless released it to hike back downhill to the shoreline.  An ant rescued itself by crawling up my back and took a lot of persuading to leave me alone.  At least two monarch caterpillars were still feeding and, unlike the other critters, were willing to pose.  And that was all I saw.