A day or so away from the Autumn Equinox, here we are again. It’s been cool nights and still very warm, ever-shortening days. All signs are barreling towards Fall at full speed, pops of orange here and there, gardens calling out for tidying, soon to be put to bed.

I’ve pulled out clothing from the drawers and closets – some to be donated and others to be making their way into storage tubs and back up into the attic, where they will be swapped with some winter wear. The ongoing cycle. Unfortunately, it’s mostly keepers because I still Cannot Let Go of Things I Like, but some slight progress is being made. Before packing it all away, I’ve decided to wear some of it one more time – this has resulted in a pile on the chair of “Goodbye Summer” outfits and my own private little fashion show that nobody will see unless they notice me walking the dog in something new every day this week.

There has been the heady, sweet scent of Clematis wafting past The Urban Porch this month, emanating from an explosion of it in the yard of a house two doors away. A blanket of it, laden with bees, took over the fence, jumped into the next yard and grew up on top of the hydrangeas there. I was hoping the neighbor might share a couple of the many roots, but despite my shamelessly blatant hints, she has not been forthcoming.

A golden grasshopper erratically flips around the porch, prompting me to carefully slip inside the door before it can enter the house. After the previous evasive and relentlessly loud cricket visitor (see Soaking in the Last of Summer 9/7/2024 for that one) I would like to avoid more hopping house guests.

Just south of here, a stroll across the walkway spanning the river reveals hundreds of planthoppers known as the Spotted Lantern Fly (Lycorma delicatula). They are a brilliant black, white and crimson, with eyes that glow sort of scarlet in the sunlight.

This invasive species comes from Vietnam and China, where it hitched a ride on ships bringing in products from overseas. They are not a good thing for our valley, destructive to hardwood trees, orchards of stone fruits and grapes in the vineyards. They have the potential to economically devastate the area between decimating crops, damaging trees and impacting tourism. It is no surprise to me that their tree of preference is the Tree of Heaven (Ailanthus altissima), an invasive scourge originating in Asia itself (see Hydra 1/17/2011) for the experience with the “tree from hell”, which is still an ongoing issue)

I thought it curious that masses of them seemed to be on the bridge that arches over the wide river instead of all over the shore leading up to the bridge. A conservation officer I encountered there explained that in addition to these invasive insects hitching rides up on cars with visitors to our area coming up from the city, via southern counties and states, they also are cruising up attached to barges traveling upriver for commerce. So they are managing to travel by many different modes. I saw just today someone on social media mentioned they noticed their first one in our town.

I wonder if the wave can be stopped. I’m not big on killing most kinds of insects, but this seems rather important. It has been recommended by the Department of Environmental Conservation to check for the eggs, nymphs or adults and destroy any you come across. As they flitted from the railings to the pavement, people walking or riding across the bridge were doing their best to stomp on them with their feet, run over them with their bicycles, or even roll over them with rollator walkers! They are incredibly fast as they spring out of the way. There was a trail of stepped on ones, but so many more were bouncing on the fencing and across the pavement in the sun.

Reflecting upon how something so beautiful could simultaneously be so destructive; I suppose that is the way of the world – with insects, weather, and people, actually……..

Out in the woods in a stand of oaks, the forest floor has been littered with papery, golden wasp galls.

This tiny little bug was waving its antennae around as it clung to a sprig of rosemary growing in a pot on the porch. I don’t know what kind of insect it is, but I observed it for a while. Perhaps this is just a bit of anthropomorphism on my part, but I imagined it was a little confused and filled with much indecision.

I had a funny encounter with a deer the other day. Stopping at friend’s house to water their plants, a doe and her growing fawn browsing some hydrangeas by the driveway suddenly paused as I stepped out of my car.

She stopped eating for a second to stare at me, poised for flight, before deciding I was probably not a threat. Junior, however, was a bit more cautious and relocated behind a shed.

Clearly her lunch was a strong enticement to stay. I was standing pretty close to her and could not help but notice the swirling white markings on her nose.

As I stood there taking a few pictures of her, she became visibly annoyed by the interruption. She didn’t want to give up her hydrangea feast, instead showing her displeasure at my invasion of her repast while she stood her ground.

Eventually she decided to put a little space between us, flipped up her tail and moved away – but she didn’t go very far.

At that point, Junior emerged from behind the shed and the two of them stood there staring at me, hopefully and perhaps impatiently waiting until I left so they could continue their lunch in peace.

You can’t see it that well in the photo, but Junior has similar, interesting white designs on the nose too.

I just can’t help but anthropomorphize this moment too, as she gave me what I imagined to be one more imploring, exasperated, disappointed look before they gave up and both moved on.

The full harvest moon was lovely, bathing the warm night in a bright glow. No matter how I try to adjust it, my phone camera has never facilitated the capture of any impressive lunar shots.

This was the best I could do, and it’s pretty inferior.

But a few of my friends were able to get some nice shots of the partial lunar eclipse happening with their phone cameras. I guess I have the wrong phone for this kind of thing. Big difference! Here is one of theirs as it was happening .

Since the crows have vacated the Crow Tree, the starlings feel comfortable gathering there.

They are very flighty and certainly not as brave as the crows. They even let the house sparrows push them around. Today they swooped down from the top of the dying maple in a group and landed in the dogwood tree next to The Urban Porch, where they picked off the red berries, perched on the wires to devour them and then nervously took off again.

I always expect them to have a lot more temerity than they do, especially since they travel in groups.

Large clouds of House Sparrows have been covering the lawns and filling the trees of the houses on this street. Since they do not migrate, perhaps the congregations have to either do with some sort of social endeavor? Here is a small sampling of the crowd that decided to hang out on my neighbor’s front steps. The entire yard was filled with them, but their brown color blended in so well that I could not take a detailed enough photo to show how impressive it looked.

Touching on birds, I stopped by a friends house and hung out with their backyard fowl for a while. Interesting chicken faces…

and Muscovy ducks, boldly inquiring if I had something for them.

You can’t help but laugh when they follow you, waddling and muttering. For some reason I feel a little bit differently about ducks than I do chickens. Maybe it’s about their cute webbed feet? When I was a kid my friend had a couple of ducks, which were kept in a pool in her backyard – until they made such a mess that her parents gave them away. I named the one with the crooked foot “PRNDL,” pronounced “Pernandle”. In case it didn’t immediately jump out at you, PRNDL is the automatic transmission on a car (Park, Reverse, Neutral, Drive, Low). Pernandle is actually an excellent name for a duck, isn’t it? What is it that is so endearing about ducks?

And so we move into Autumn. Colorful pots of mums, purple asters and festive pumpkins adorn front steps and porches. Squashes and corn fill bins at the farmer’s market. Soon the scent of apples and leaves will be filling the air. As the daylight hours yield to early evenings, it becomes a time of hearty soups, cinnamon and ginger cookies, cozy blankets, hibernation and a comforting dog. Hopefully this year’s leaf show will be a splendid one. As always, this season is a moody, emotional time of year. Despite the hope and renewal of spring, I think autumn remains very much my favorite. I wish we could hold on to it for a while.

~*~