5:30 AM on the front porch: The sunrise is illuminating the vibrating wings of Sweetheart Calico, (named for a great character in Louise Erdrich’s Antelope Woman.) the mate of the yet nameless male Anna’s hummingbird who frequents my porch, as she looks for nectar. She is coming so close to me though she knows I’m here. Maybe we have trust? I’m gonna pretend. She buzzes like a Norelco shaver. The sun is just now an orange in the sky. The peach blossoms of the Agastache she is drinking from fluoresce. What a moment!
A flycatcher is playing and feeding on my car’s windshield which is covered with dew. It lets itself slide backward down the glass then pulls itself back up by flapping, but not becoming airborne. The effect is a little like the small grey bird is moonwalking backward then using the “up” escalator and snatching an occasional gnat as it does so. I love busting animals delighting themselves for no good reason.
There are so many pollinators on the porch it’s a total plant orgy. The bugs and birds are not delicate about it either. There’s lots of pushing, shoving and smashing. Everything must surely be hybridized by now! Haha! I guess you aren’t used to these kinds of sexually explicit posts here in the Lung but this is the lusty reality of the front porch…
I like hearing the calls of roosters and the lowing of the milk cows a whole farm over. They carry beautifully over the hills. I miss having chickens and am made a little melancholy by the familiar sound from far away.
My daughter calls my attention to some baby turkeys in the field next to us bobbing their necks up and down in unison. I suspect they are signaling to their mother? I am so glad she saw it, I have never seen this behavior before. It was sweet and ridiculous looking.
On a walk in the woods I go looking for the ghost pipe plant to see if it's blooming yet. I find three groupings and notice a tiny fluorescent red mushroom who seems to always be nearby. Maybe it’s an indicator species? How exciting! Everytime I find a little clump of ghost pipe a sunray from the lowering star spotlights their pearly fragility in golden hour glow. It’s breathtaking. It makes the plant seem holy, which it is.
The orchard 8:15 PM: The sun is snuggling down behind the pinkish grass seed heads and blurring the middle ground to a peachy-amber light, the kind Maxfield Parrish was famous for capturing in his paintings. I keep expecting Slinky and Stroopwafel to poke into the scene and nibble some grass. At the other side of the year in winter 8:15 pm would represent the other end of the color wheel with an impossible blue that I can’t take my eyes off of. I look forward to that blue. It accompanies the smell of cinnamon nicely.
Antelope Woman!
I wonder if the red mushroom you see is a type of russula? They’re the main species who pass the ghost pipes their nutrients from trees nearby. Real stand-up fungis.
Thank you for mentioning Maxfield Parrish. I don't think he's a particularly trendy painter in 2023, but every time I see one of his works, I gasp. They really resonate for me. My mom & aunts & grandmother went to see an exhibit of his paintings at the Philadelphia Academy of Fine Arts in 1999 and it was one of the most rewarding exhibits I've attended.
I love imagining the beautiful place where you live. Thanks for writing so vividly.