By Boak Wiesner
The wind cavorts in the leaves, as I make my way along the path east of rhododendrons, and what strikes me is that wind in trees is auditorily like fog is visually: it narrows one’s perspective down to the immediate surroundings and no more. Only the loudest bird calls can be heard.
Water, water everywhere. I find a little male Eastern Tailed Blue “puddling” from some moist soil along the path. Its rubs its hindwings together like they itch.
There were several species of dragonflies around me, maybe contributing to the lack of mosquitoes I was thinking. A Red Meadowhawk perched long enough to snap its photo. The veins in its wings cast interesting shadows on the leaf underneath.
With the abundant rain the last two month, fungi are having a field day, or should I say, a forest day. Here in the wet woods some Magpie Inkcaps are hard at work, digesting up a the fallen oak log. These are just the fruiting bodies, of course, as the whole organism’s hyphae are growing through the substrate of the wood as its enzymes dissolve and digest it.
As I emerge from the woods into the hot sun, in the tall grass I notice some pale yellow flowers, and thinking that a little more subtle coloration after the profusion of gaudy spring flowers might be a nice change of pace. Some Sulphur Cinquefoil has a couple of insect visitors.