Summer's Sunset (SWF)

Summer's Sunset

Orange Sulphur on Queen Anne's Lace at sunset

There is a sense of waiting, as if suspended over a great space—
the final weeks of summer hang, so still and expectant.
This field, now empty of swallows, gone, as large flocks congregate and pass across the skies above the tree line, their backdrop, the tumbling clouds pushed ahead of what would be a welcome change.

I visit the gum grove, where, in other years I have found the wheel bugs, poised at the edge of the star-shaped leaves, patient for their prey--and curious of my camera. But, this year, do not find them.
A mantis hangs patiently instead, her strong forelegs grasping what had been a honeybee, drawn to the periwinkle blue of the chicory, fallen face-forward in gentle boughs across the grassy path. She munches her softly furred find, turning her alien head and sidestepping with the grace given her in four long, slender legs, behind the knotty stem.
Except for the intermittent drone of the cicada, all is quiet here.
The stillness, deep and discernible.
The giant hush has fallen.

Black and Yellow Garden Spider, Argiope aurantia

At the edge of the pond--a new development, broad and billowing, to span 14 inches of prime, waterfront property.
In the center, waits a spider, her brilliant body etched in black shadow, riding an almost imperceptible breeze forward and falling slowly back.
A teneral dragonfly has taken her first breaths here, out of water, while her soft wings wait for readiness to fly.

Garden Spider, Argiope aurantia and Eastern Pondhawk, Erythemis simplicicollis

Clever, waiting one,
to catch the winged dragon,
one need not have wings.

See more Skywatch here.

Misty Morning

Field at dawn with spider web

I approach the misty field with the anticipation of a child on Christmas morning.
Last night a spider was at work here.
And I know now where I will find her.

single strand of silk across path

I watched as she laid down the spokes of a giant wheel, scrambling back and forth from the center to each edge. A framework on which to build--the finest silk strands anchored firmly.
Barely seen, yet perfectly placed.
Then wound them ‘round and ‘round.
And the field slipped into darkness.

Orb weaver web heavy with dew

The heaviness of a late summer’s day is left here by this cool morning. Draped like a cord of small white lights, twinkling in the first rays of sun.
The finest glass beads along each thread, bend but do not break it.



Until, with the rising light they vanish.
And the magic of a misty morning is gone.

our tree draped with lights
Christmas morning 2007