I was going to wax poetical about autumn and the changes that go on during this time of the year, but so many people have made posts lately in the same vein. And it seems like they have done a better job of the poetry than I feel like I can. So I’ll just tell you to go visit Frances or Carol or Sue O’Keiffe and be dazzled.
Instead I am posting a few pictures that I have captured in the last few days here at The Havens as things prepare for the coming winter.
I annoyed this caterpillar severely for quite a while, making it walk from one side of the echinacea leaf it was on to the other in my quest for a grand portrait. This appears to be a golden wooly bear caterpillar, which is the larval form of the Virginian Tiger Moth. Oddly enough, this moth is pure white in form, making its naming a mystery.
Just in case you were wondering, you are looking at his (her) head end. Shortly after I annoyed the caterpillar, I continued in my deadheading chore and came across a garter snake. It was a little sluggish since it wasn’t that warm of a morning. Frankly, this snake would have been happy to eat the caterpillar pictured above, and their habit of consuming plant-eating insects are one of the reasons I like garter snakes.
Earlier that morning I was walking Ruby in our customary place and caught a good sized skein of geese as they circled around discussing whether it was time to head south or not.
Later in in the day I found that the honey bees were visiting the cleomes.
Jim was putting the new tarp over the leaky roof of the woodshed and disturbed a gravid praying mantis who was hunting there. (We have noticed that the wrens think the wood piles are the buffet du jour also.) Anyway, in order to preserve her from the activity around the site, I moved her over to the Petite Prairie. Frankly, I don’t think she looks all that grateful.
Last night when I let Ruby out for her evening constitutional she tore out to the root cellar and proceeded to bark in a very meaningful manner. I thought it might be politic to go see what she was so interested in, not really wishing to deal with a skunked dog right before bedtime.
But it wasn’t a skunk, it was a young possum, which she “treed” in the fig bush. I know there are a lot of people who don’t particularly like possums, but I believe that the scavengers and carrion eaters play an important role in our lives. Anyway, I found this shot rather humorous, because the poor thing is trying desperately to “Play dead” while at the same time clinging for dear life to a branch that really isn’t big enough to cling to comfortably.
“Nothing to see here, folks; move along, move along.”
Lastly, but not least, I am including a scan of all the discarded avian raiment that I have found when walking out and about this year.
And so I go out to embrace the changes in the season, while reminding myself to treat my body lovingly and carefully as the pulled muscle in my groin heals.
No, don’t ask how I acquired that injury. The answer involves Way Too Much Information.