Morning rain escalated into an early afternoon thunderstorm, which, if the forecast is correct, will spawn more thunder and rain as the day progresses. The squirrels and warblers don’t seem to mind, so maybe I shouldn’t, either.
in the yard
Cicadas
Summer seems within reach, so I can’t resist a selection from the summer archives.
Cicadas
Their last earthbound form clings
hollow gargoyle relic of claw and eye
split with surgical precision to release
the winged adult.
If I held one of these amber
husks to my ear, would a dusty
song of waning summer pulse
like the tide in a scrolled shell?
Changing Weather
The ladybug doesn’t lie. It’s “unseasonably warm” today, but not for long. The approaching cold front’s humid gusts have filled the yard with hyacinth perfume, and an electric sense of unease.
On a normal day, I might see two or three seagulls soar over my yard. Today I see dozens. They seem to be fleeing inland.
An angry chorus of crows, as they drive away a hawk, echoes the air’s tingle and buzz.
The sky changes from moment to moment, from frame to frame. It’s unsettling. Perhaps I’ll join the dog as she paces and frets along the leading edge our first spring storm.
Sunshine
The yard is fully awake, roused by brilliant sunshine. Every stem stirs, an audible creak and rustle, and the breeze feels like a contented yawn. I’m tempted to use the word “spring” again…
From the Robin Archives
Today is one of those days. An achy, sleepy, over-tired day of necessary errands and unnecessary complications. An unoriginal day, tiresomely mundane. Unread books murmur from every shelf, unfinished taxes whisper anxiety, and unwalked trails sing a muddy siren song that I have no time to heed.
It’s a day to cover my ears, charge the camera’s batteries, and visit the archives. Here’s a photo from May 2010, one of my all-time favorites.
Rae Spencer 