Under attack, trees share their secrets
Spread rumors of invasion
Or infestation, a whiff of stress perfume
Winding through the damaged grove
Whispering the key to survival
Simple and complex molecules seep
From root to root, fungal lines
Of communication ringing
The soil switchboard with toxic
News, rousing a gene, waking
A cascade of defense in pristine leaves
That become jaded, learn the noxious
Knack of bitterness, turn tasteless
In time to repel the siege
A moth, a dragonfly, and a new publication. Little things, yes, but most days are made of little things.
Publication note: My poem “The Congresswoman’s Brain” was published on vox poetica’s today’s words page over the weekend. It is now on the poemblog. Many thanks to editor Annmarie Lockhart!
Two days ago, the first dragonflies arrived in the yard. I had seen a few cruising through, in previous weeks, but none stopping to stay. This one was a female Blue Dasher, hunting in the pear tree. As I tried to get her picture, I got distracted by another Blue Dasher a few branches over. Beside it, yet another, this one male. I circled the tree, trying to count, but soon gave up counting and concentrated on pictures.
Early this afternoon, they moved into the wax myrtle, which gets the most direct midday sunshine. I suspect they will migrate back to the pear tree by sunset.
So far, the overwhelming majority are Blue Dashers, but Halloween Pennants and Golden Skimmers should show up before too long. Maybe even a few new species. This will be our twelfth summer here, and I had never seen damselflies in the yard before this spring. Now they make regular stops in the irises.
I love how the yard changes from season to season and year to year. It’s an ordinary yard on an ordinary street in an ordinary city, proving over and over again the extraordinary nature of “ordinary”.
There’s nothing newsworthy about doves on the roof. And, as much as I hate to admit it, a gutter full of twigs is not unusual, either.
However, in this instance the two are related.
It wouldn’t be my first choice, were I seeking a place to nest, but she seems content.
Fortunately, this part of the roof doesn’t drain much. As long as we don’t get any tropical storms, the nest should be safe.
Another rainy day and another video from the summer archives. (I blame the rain, but it’s not the rain’s fault. Even if it does make me so sleepy I can hardly think.)
This video has a little history. In the process of identifying the caterpillar, I contacted our local wildlife columnist. She included one of my pictures in her column and published a follow-up column after another reader reported being stung.
Rae Spencer 