There is a sweet coolness to the air
and a delicious breeze.
After visiting with and feeding all the chickens, ducks, geese and goats
after watering all the many potted trees on the patios
i set up my lawn chair in the shade
outside! (The first time in months)
and enjoy watching:
flycatchers flitting up to the second story windows of the main house
fluttering before their reflections
gold finches foraging under asters
a mama cardinal shooing away sparrows
yellow monarchs bobbing about
Red admiral butterflies
or are they painted ladies?
my, they are quick
are everywhere there are flowers
Refresh the water in the bird pens
and visit with the ladies as they take their dust baths.
my lawn chair on the bluestone patio
has been baking in the sun
so i retreat indoors to lunch
eating my thick tomato slices on
generously mayo-d bread more quickly than usual
so i can return outdoors to the deeper allés
where the heat cannot find me
two black swallowtail butterflies weave the air
in a spiral dance
the breeze has stiffened to a gusty, gentle
i move my lawn chair to the pavillion
away from the sun but
where i can still bathe in the wind
while i snack on cubes of melon.
the air from the hot bluestone
isn't nicest as it rushes in to engulf me.
i am fixated on a grasshopper that is
methodically walking across the bluestones
examining every inch very carefully.
Another joins it, and
from time to time they fly up
and land a foot or so away
i guess their tiny little feet get hot.
i am puzzled
what keeps them so occupied on these hot stones?
Do they eat pollen?
Freshen the water in all of the bird pens
and water all the nursery
The sun has traveled down behind the giant spruces
i bring my supper
(Nicoise salad. Well, a sort-of Nicoise salad: minus the eggs and
cold chunks of chicken substituted for tuna and Kalamata olives
since our market seems not to know from Nicoise)
out to the patio
all in shade now
and bathed in the evening blessing of a breeze.
In the long, low light
dragonflies flit above me
where sunlight still lives
winking in their silken wing patterns.
Higher and higher up
with the creamy-warm clouds behind them
a flock of chimney swifts.
While making my final round of the day
i catch a glimpse of something or someone and it
makes me stop short
to peer through the layers of tree branches.
down one of the wooded pathways that
wind through the heart of the garden
stopped in mid-stride
alert, perfectly still
watching me holding my breath