A Heavy Softness in the Air

Cool green dripping with lushness...an invite into my gardens of refreshing atmospheric perfection.  An illusion...some say a lie...as there's a heavy softness in the air...a lovely poetic interpretive way of saying baby! it's hotter than hell outside.

Dustin's been patiently waiting for the little click clatter of tiny claws scampering across the deck railing for his favorite pastime of exercising the squirrels.

Zoe's calculating how many seconds it will take her to fly out that sliding glass door, and crunch her razor sharp teeth into that yummy soft body of red and black feathers that's munching on sunflower seeds near the dog house, when her significant person exits the house again after she finishes wiping all that dripping sweat from her face.

A piece of the green ash tree crashes to the deck with an enormous sound that belies its real smallness...that green ash tree that takes up half the back yard...that green ash tree that's waiting for the emerald ash borer to find it in its game of hide and seek...that green ash tree that will be a dead green ash tree when feasted on by that invading foreigner of devastation...that green ash tree that will become a nightmare to remove after it dies.

 

White beauty berries nearly picked clean by the resident mockingbird and her two little tykes, the purple beauty berries are just coming into color of their own; and the viburnum berries are beginning to rose up and turn blue, creating a gorgeous rose, white, and blue effect, which will become quite stunning as the color deepens.   

Passion vines are lately looking like swiss cheese as the gulf fritillary caterpillars leave only stems in their wake.  They're a hungry bunch of munchers, that show up quite late in the season, with almost too short a time to turn into those beautiful orange butterflies before winter covers the yard.  Most plentiful the first year the vines grew, we saw them pupating all over the sides of the house by the dozens, creating a wonderful nightmare, as each hatching left a bright stain behind.  Never have they been as plentiful as that first year they found the gardens. 

Almost an impossibility to see the ground in the prairie garden keeps Dustin from harassing the wildlife, if any should happen to show up out there.  Yesterday as I cut more maple and bradford pear seedlings out of that space, a rabbit came flying out of the grasses and disappeared into the gardens beyond, renewing my faith that something really is living here besides insects and birds.  Mosquitoes are bugging the hell out of me, so the photo shoot is abruptly ending with me flying into the comfort of my air conditioned home of 80 degrees.  You know its way too hot when 80 degrees feels cool!

The dog days of summer seem to be going nowhere any time soon, so I'll be hibernating indoors, thank you; that is, if I can survive being tormented umpteen times a day by a pudgy kitty kat on a diet reminding me with a barrage of endless meows that he's starving to death and living with a mean mommy.