As the new moon eclipses the sun in a ring of fire on the other side of the world, where swarms of locusts besat about the time COVID cooties went viral, I offer a single, silly frog from three sides to celebrate solstice 2020. Another end of the world is upon us.
Trees, grass, and moss in the clearwater ditch.
Tiny hummingbird in the tangle heart tree
Chokes on smoke from a distant fire
Purple haze on Sandia’s gray
Pink snuffed out while beaver plays
Owls fall silent have they taken their leave?
A dove coos atop Mia’s tree
Nighthawk flies erratically
Bat cuts through the air
Hangs thick
A bat was flying close to the water catching last night.
Night Heron
Spunk
Reakirt’s Blue (Echinargus isola) is a tiny butterfly with a wingspan of only 3/4 of an inch (19mm). This one distracted me while I was walking in the bosque this morning.
Our Iceberg blooms have developed pink edges as they have aged. The blooms on this bush are normally solid white. The pink edges might be from a few cool nights that dipped down round 40º F last week.
Little Baby Owl flies over the ditches.
I irrigated this morning. When I went out to let in the water at 5:30 am, there was a bullfrog at the gate. The temperature was 45º F (7.2º C) and Mr. Frog stood his water and held tight even though the gate made a lot of squeaking noises as I cranked it open, and the current from the water rushing into the culvert tugged at his buoyant body.
Off Center & Not Even 