Bird's Eye View of Earth

Pacific Northwest from the air

Even with my nose pressed to the glass, I could not see all there was.
The vastness, the remarkable texture, the melding colors under clouds that drift like snow across the face of the earth.

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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

Hidden

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,

I took the one less traveled by.
And that has made all the difference.

~Robert Frost

Water lilies on Jackson Lake

Jackson Lake has broad shores, where water lilies fill the shallows and yellow birch step down gentle slopes to the water’s edge.
Small, well-kept camps line most of the lake, each staking claim to access.
Weathered docks reach like crooked fingers beyond the land—out, into water.
Here, the human element is evident.



Hidden by low, leaning trees, a narrow passage winds its way back, from the open water, into quiet. We paddled on, into the shade, cool on this very warm day.

Cardinal Flower, Lobelia cardinalis

Color is caught in a patch of sunlight.
Cardinal flower—its scarlet blossoms like miniature cranes, their wings outstretched.
Standing on spikes, to reach toward the sunshine.



On this little island, where I stand to stare at flowers, the growth has been trampled. As if someone with muddy boots wove a trail, with a heavy, careless step.
And wandered among the trees.


Ahead of us, small channels cut back and forth across another narrow grassy bar, becoming a network of paths linking shallow to shallow. More muddy steps wind to the bank, and slip down, into the water.



I see it now.
A beaver’s home is here.
Back in this sheltered area, where brilliant flowers bloom.
And dark water is still beneath a canopy of leaves that bends nearly to the water's surface.

Hidden from most.
Seen only by those who might venture to glide beyond the open water--to the places most will not go.

Great Blue Heron in tree
Jackson Lake State Park

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International Rock Flipping Day

It's International Rock Flipping Day!
And what better way to investigate the natural world and discover some unusual creatures in it, than to look under a rock--lift the lid on subterranean lives--and anyone else who may be hiding there!


Southwestern Ohio has been dry.
So dry, that long, branching cracks cover most of the yard. Our clay soil bakes under the 90 degree late summer sun, until only the hardiest survive.
Or dig deep. Way below this parched, unfriendly surface.

Between 2 flat rocks around the herb garden, I found the empty cocoon of a woolly bear. A flattened mat of short auburn hairs--he's long gone from where he over-wintered in his felted wool sweater.


The low water level at the pond has exposed the old dam.
Rocks emerge from the muddy rim, barely peeking above the duckweed and watermeal in a soupy, green sludge.
But someone has already looked here, probably in the dark, hoping to find crawdads. This morning, his footprints are all I find.

Raccoon tracks around pond

Around the trail, rock after rock.
Stone after stone, I flip--hoping to find something more than an empty web or tunnel.

Finally--buried treasure.

An ant colony--a BIG one!
Full of very active ants, half an inch long, in a chamber the size of my fist.
Immediately they scurry into the adjoining tunnels, frantically grabbing rice-shaped pupae and disappearing behind the intricate excavation I've exposed.

There's something else living here, too, within this colony of ants.
Rove beetles, their amber bodies and tails held high, fuss about. Ants pick them up and run off, taking them, also, to their place of safety.
Rove beetles are myrmecophiles, organisms that live in association with ants, in this case, within their nest, in a symbiotic relationship. One organism benefits from the other, and neither is harmed.

Ant colony with Rove Beetles as inquilines

Yep, there sure is a lot going on out there.
Things we easily see, and those we have to look harder to find.
Great lessons in the natural world lurk just beneath the surface.
Lift the lid.
Flip a rock.

out and about
making tracks

Rock-Flipping Day Reports

Pohanginapete (Pohangina Valley, Aotearoa/New Zealand)
Blaugustine (London, England)
Nature Remains (Ohio, USA)
Pensacola Daily Photo (Florida, USA)
KatDoc's World (Ohio, USA)
Notes from the Cloud Messenger (Ontario, Canada)
Brittle Road (Dallas, Texas)
Sherry Chandler (Kentucky, USA)
osage + orange (Illinois, USA)
Rock Paper Lizard (British Columbia, Canada)
The Crafty H (Virginia, USA)
Chicken Spaghetti (Connecticut, USA)
A Passion for Nature (New York, USA)
The Dog Geek (Virginia, USA)
Blue Ridge blog (North Carolina, USA)
Bug Girl's Blog (Michigan, USA)
chatoyance (Austin, Texas)
Riverside Rambles (Missouri, USA)
Pines Above Snow(Maryland, USA)
Beth's stories (Maine, USA)
A Honey of an Anklet (Virginia, USA)
Wanderin' Weeta (British Columbia, Canada)
Fate, Felicity, or Fluke (Oregon, USA)
The Northwest Nature Nut (Oregon, USA)
Roundrock Journal (Missouri, USA)
The New Dharma Bums (California, USA)
The Marvelous in Nature (Ontario, Canada)
Via Negativa (Pennsylvania, USA)
Mrs. Gray's class, Beatty-Warren Middle School (Pennsylvania, USA)
Cicero Sings (British Columbia, Canada)
Pocahontas County Fair (West Virginia, USA)

* * *

Photos

IRFD group on Flickr
IRFD gallery on Via Negativa

The Great Predator

Chinese Mantid

Last summer I noticed it, too--almost as an overnight change.
Dozens of mantids--where yesterday there had been none, hanging in their upside down pose, densely scattered throughout the flower tops.

The larger ones are the most in number here, Chinese Mantids, with only a few of the smaller European Mantids among them. This year, choosing goldenrod as a hunting ground, where their long, slender green and brown-winged bodies blend perfectly with its leaves.

raptorial forelegs

They step forward slowly and deliberately. Then patiently wait, motionless, for unsuspecting prey.

The wide-eyed triangular head is quick to turn in response to the most minor movement. Front legs grasping in a flash that which wanders carelessly too close. Hungrily devouring every morsel, headfirst. Until only a small scrap of a leg remains.

Mantid with prey

Mantid eating

voracious appetite

I kept one in a terrarium on the porch for a few days, bringing her offerings each morning from the plants in the field. My collection of 2 Harvestmen (Daddy Longlegs), 2 Milkweed Bugs, a shield bug, a katydid and a caterpillar was eaten before noon with no complaint. Even while devouring one held in her right foreleg, the left caught a bug and held it tightly in its vise-like grasp. A two-fisted eater!
(Harvestmen are eaten legs first!)

posing before release to field

Reflection

We've had the last weekend of the summer, officially speaking, as Labor Day marks the arrival of fall.
And, as is often the case, also marked a birthday for me--my last, before turning fifty.

A time to reflect.
To think about the passing seasons of one's life--
spring, summer, autumn and winter.

Summer has gone so quickly.
Already the air has turned toward fall.

Autumn always was my favorite time of year.

canoe by edge of Jackson Lake

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Third Strike

Our vegetable garden has suffered this year.

Weeding was replaced by wedding.
And soon, other home projects that demand we make progress in the few short summer months each year were underway. While already, the repairs made 15 years ago upon our arrival have been undone—others, yet unstarted, wait.
But, as much as the greedy old house steals time, we would not have it any other way.
“Building character,” we call it, and hammer away at our dream.

Rebuilding porches and repair to brick

Repointing around old shutter dog

At the edge of the woods, a small oak tree I walk past each day has suffered, too.
First, nearly consumed by a hoard of Datana caterpillars—arching into their defensive postures with the slightest nudge of the branch.

Datana sp.
before and after

Then, nibbled and trimmed by the bagworm, days later, his house decorated by the few remaining scraps he could find.

Bagworm feeding on oak
Thyridopteryx sp.

Today, what may be the final blow. Still too small to be seen well, but flattened against the bare narrow stems where others have chewed, still more have arrived to feed.




With each assault, I worry that this young specimen that dared step forward into the field may not survive. The others tower behind him, seemingly unaffected.
A sacrifice, perhaps?

A large unruly plant has sprouted from my compost pile and set forth across the lawn.
We mow around it.
Its leafy greenness hides my gardening sins.
And bears the only tomatoes we may see this year.