It’s mid-summer, up to now quite thick with a sultry humidity, filled with iced tea and slow-moving. I’m too hot and lazy to delve into any subject too deeply. I just want to take a bit of a mental sabbatical and not think too intensely about anything for a little while. Don’t you?

Earworm of the Day – Edie Brickell & New Bohemians:

I’m not aware of too many things
I know what I know, if you know what I mean

Both the dog and I have mostly been lolling around and napping. I’m just going to share small observations that have sent tiny pops of amusement or pleasure – buoyant balloons of fleeting, in-the-moment delight.

Shove me in the shallow water
Before I get too deep

These Barn Swallows were just about to fledge. The mother was dive-bombing us as I took a few pictures so I didn’t hang out too long.

I love the little one waiting at the end of the line. Their wide, clown-like, juvenile beaks bring to mind mimes in white makeup.

Here and there throughout the neighborhood I’ve encountered pockets of air laden with the sweet perfume of Privet blossoms. How powerful olfactory recollections can be! While walking the dog the other day, I caught a whiff of Privet and was unexpectedly transformed way, way back to a childhood memory long forgotten; watching my neighbor’s pretty teenage cousin who was visiting up north from Oklahoma, as she sat on the cool, grassy lawn abutting our back yard.

She encompassed everything I thought a high school girl was supposed to be, with her tanned arms, hair swept back in a headband, capri pants and a pair of white Keds sneakers. The cute teenage drummer in a band who lived a few blocks away and wore pointy Beatle boots was lying across her lap, smiling up at her as she flirtatiously dropped pieces of clover onto his hair. “She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah”…. I wondered how it would be when I someday became a teenager. Back then I wanted to be like that girl of summer.

Present flirtations – a male Red Milkweed Beetle (Tetraopes tetrophthalmus) finds his awaiting mate on a leaf.

The flowers have dropped, leaving milkweed pods burgeoning with seeds tethered to silken strands.

Drumstick Allium (Round-headed garlic) pops across a friend’s garden

Art mimics nature as holiday fireworks send Allium explosions into the sky

My granddaughter came running up to me, eager to share a found toad gently cradled in her hands. Both the toad and her enthusiasm put a smile on my heart.

After providing adequate admiration, she led me to “where it lives” and tucked it safely back into its grassy hide-away.

Philosophy is the talk on a cereal box
Religion is the smile on a dog

Echinacea and Butterfly weed create a pleasant duet.

A bee alternates back and forth between colorful varieties of the cone flower.

My close observation seemed to slightly agitate it, so I left the bee to its business.

“Mema! Look what we found!” A poplar sphinx moth – aka modest sphinx moth (Pachysphinx Modesta). This one was as large as the palm of my hand.

Philosophy is a walk on the slippery rocks
Religion is a light in the fog

Last weekend was spent not far from the Canadian border visiting a family member’s home. The Lupines in the yard there had finished blooming, leaving furry seed pods behind. For some reason I’ve always had limited success growing them. However, we gathered enough to bring back and attempt it again next year. They had not really aged enough to harvest, but I’m going to try letting them dry out and hope they will be viable. There are enough that (with some luck) at least a few may germinate.

I love Lupines. There is a wonderful story called “Miss Rumphius” that I used to read to my children about a woman in Maine and her legacy of Lupines. At some point, after growing past the age of hoping to be like that teenage summer neighbor from long ago, I decided I wanted to be Miss Rumphius. I think I still want to be Miss Rumphius!

Silhouettes of pine create images of daytime fireworks.

Pine needles of light fill the night sky with celebration.

Splashes of Goldfinch sunshine catch the eye.

A massive explosion of blooms consumes The Urban Porch. It is reaching critical mass….

In addition to too many plants (can you ever have too many plants?) there has been a steady supply of salad tomatoes.

I’m just looking around and soaking it all in as the sultry heat draws out the colors of summer, shimmering shards of beauty and things I love, catching the eye from every direction.

What I am is what I am
Are you what you are or what?

~*~

*“What I Am” by Edie Brickell & New Bohemians – Shooting Rubberbands At The Stars, 1988