At Last.

Everything In Between

So, everything else from the first half of August. I want to say that on August 2 in my back yard I saw a monarch butterfly floating serenely on the breeze. I took a deep breath, and felt the wheel turn. The season is definitely in change now, and I am so thankful. We've had not only cool nights but some really cool days, and though there will probably be a hot day or two (like today) I know that the back of the heat has been broken and we are enroute to my favorite season of them all.

Leaf-cutter bee.

Monarda seed heads. She's always beautiful.

No rain for us. Just clouds.

Hybrid flock. The mallards on the ponds at 6th & Gage have made friends with some yellow-billed white ducks.

I did.

Mighty clouds the evening of August 8. Still no rain for us.

12-Spotted Skimmer, perched on the radio antenna of my car.

More great clouds, but still no rain.

Western Ironweed, in the native plant area near the Discovery Center in Gage Park.

So finally, and unexpectedly, a tiny bit of rain fell on Ms. Monarda the late night and morning of August 14. And the day was another wonderfully cool one. Love to the coming dark and cool!

Moon When Everything Ripens

I was looking up names for the Full Moons and found that the moon of August was called by some native people "The Moon When Everything Ripens." That is fitting, as there is a glut of fresh fruits, vegetables and herbs all around us now.

This Moon of July/August was in the sky the evening of July 31. With birds!

Lake Shawnee is down, way down. There is some kind of weed all over in the shallow parts, making the water and reflections look gnarly. But I took pictures anyway, and here are the ones from August 1.

Why so Long?

Between posts, that is. I dilly, I dally. I am a born procrastinator. And then there is Facebook. Where I am not limited to talking to myself. So, sure, there are some pictures.

Gage Park is always a cool oasis. There are all these little places to glimpse. This one on July 27. And then, horror!

A monster ate about a quarter of my Sungold tomato plant before I caught and evicted him. 'Tis the tobacco hornworm, cousin of the tomato hornworm, but apparently there were not enough tobacco plants around to eat. They are the larva of one of the Sphinx moths, which I had just remarked seeing a few days ago. Who knew it had left its dreadful offspring on my produce production?

But the Moon was great. For several nights in a row. I'll switch to a different post now.