Interlude

This brilliant, crisp, promise-of-fall day brought with it a gift. Concentrating on spiffing up a photo my favorite client had taken for her blog, I almost missed it. First, it stopped me cold. Then sent me scrambling upstairs for my camera and wishing I had the lenses and skill of fine nature photographers like Julie and Mary.

Just beyond the support for my tiny deck, right by my neighbor's hydrangea bush, there he was. And I recognized him from last spring! Sadly, it wasn't his gentle eyes or fine young antlers but his lame right foreleg that gave him away. Last time he wandered through our puny excuse for woods his antlers were furry and rounded, but now he has a couple of points on each side. When I first saw him last spring I didn't expect he would survive since walking was so difficult for him. When he touched his right front hoof to the ground, it was as if he was permanently en pointe. It looked painful and awkward and I just wanted to run out and hug him or somehow make it right.

So today when he wandered by again, I was delighted to see he is still here. I drew the curtains back from the sliding door and then stood still - he was looking right at me, measuring the threat. Soon enough he went back to eating low-hanging leaves from the trees and even wandered in and out of sunlight for my enjoyment.



This is one of the delights of working at home, looking out a window. With townhouses all around I'm amazed at how much wildlife comes through the few feet of trees and tiny stream that separate one group from another. Usually it's robins, blue jays, squirrels, and Scamp, the resident rabbit. Today it was the gift of seeing a special fellow again.

What I Did On My (Not Long Enough) Summer Vacation

If this blog had smell-o-rama you would be able to enjoy the scent of sun-washed pine. With sound-o-rama you could hear the soft splish of mini-waves washing over the rocks on the shore, and the wispering of birch leaves trembling in the breeze. And enviro-true would help you feel the warm sun, then as the light ebbed, you would feel the cool come down from the hills.Now multiply that by about 6 days and you have a perfect vacation in New Hampshire.

Wish I were there.

Nature Next Door

The press of obligations has smooshed blogging off to the side in recent weeks; here's my attempt to loosen up and post just because something neat happens, even though small.

Case in point: my next-door neighbors have kindly done a wonderful job of landscaping around their town house's postage stamp back yard. This includes a butterfly bush that is easily 10' tall and that lives up to its name. A few days ago it was a particularly beautiful warm, non-humid summer's day. Looking out the window beyond my desk I kept seeing drifting waves of butterflies headed next door. So for a few moments I put the computer on standby and took my camera out for some fresh air.

We were obviously no threat to the beautiful yellow and black butterflies since they posed nicely before drifting away. I was amazed at how many of them had ragged wings. Some were missing whole chunks but it didn't keep them from flying and feeding on the brilliant purple flowers. After about 10 minutes of butterfly therapy the day went much better.

An Antidote to What's-His-Name

I have an antidote to the Imuses and Sharptons and Coulters and other sewage-spewers of the world. For every spotlight seeker going for the cheap quick headline, there are dozens of beautiful examples of writers and speakers who caress words into glowing images.

I commend to you Julie Zickefoose. With an 80-acre back yard in the Appalachians, and an encyclopedic knowledge of nature, she writes about her world and paints it with appreciation for the company of birds and bullfrogs. Her lyrical style first caught me in a brief article in the Nature Conservancy magazine, and that same day her new book went on my Amazon wish list. Fortunately, my birthday was just weeks away. As my day arrived, so did Zickefoose's Letters from Eden: A Year at Home, in the Woods.

It's clear from the Preface that a treat awaits. She talks about her "…neighbors: coyotes, copperheads, gnatcatchers, and bluebirds. I walk through their woods, and I'm lucky enough to come to know some of them." She sees the goings on in her bit of forest as nothing much extraordinary. Creatures go about their affairs. "Bullfrogs leap from the water to snap up birds. Bluebirds and Carolina wrens sometimes have threesomes. These things are extraordinary only if we know they happen. My work is to notice them."

She is a master of her craft. Enjoy.