Midsummer Miscellany

 Katydid (Image from InImage.com, not one of mine) 

No theme to today's post, just a few random notes.

First, last night (Wednesday, July 13), the annual katydid chorus began.  Only Tuesday, I had mentioned to Kali that I'd been hearing cicadas for the last week or so but hadn't yet heard a katydid.  But on our quotidian evening stroll to close the gate after sunset, three or four katydids were serenading from the trees.  Nothing says mid- to late-summer than katydids at night.  Fortunately, it got cool last night and I could leave the windows open to hear them.

Second, the flock of three hen turkeys and their combined 15 poults have gotten up enough courage to eat the seed spilled under my bird feeder.  Prior to yesterday, they'd been too skittish to allow me to sprinkle seed under the feeder for them, but now they've gotten used to me.  The poults still scuttle away a short distance when I appear, but the hungry females rush for the seed, and the young are not far behind.  By autumn, they'll all be demanding seed.

Third, deer have gotten into my garden. Either I left the gate open, or they pushed it open, but when I went down to cut basil for spaghetti sauce on Monday evening, the gate hung ajar and the tomato plants had been partially ravaged.  Nearly all of the fruits were gone, and much of the plant material had been damaged.  Fortunately, there were still some fruits left, and some of the plants have flowers on them, but it will be a lean and late harvest this year.  I secured the gate and strung deer netting higher up on the fence posts; I hope it keeps them out.

Finally, Kali and I are heading West tomorrow to cross off one of the items on my "bucket list."  Notice I said my list, not our list.  She's a good sport and, if everything goes well, she'll have a great time, too.  Update during the last week of July when I return.

First Katydid, High Summer

I heard the first katydid of the summer last evening just as the sun was setting. In addition, I noticed that the deep purple New York Ironweed (Vernonia noveboracensis) flowers have appeared in the wet meadow in my favorite natural area. High summer is fully upon us here in the sweltering Mid-Atlantic. Unfortunately, for the last few days, it's been so hot and humid I have been keeping the air conditioner on and the windows closed, so I can't hear the katydids singing at twilight.

Firefly numbers are dwindling, too. I think they peaked early and then experienced a precipitous decline during the last week. I recall that fireflies used to be abundant until the end of July, but if current trends prevail, they'll be all but gone by the end of the month this year.

I wish that the same could be said of the mosquitoes, which seem to be doing just fine despite the bone-dry, rainless conditions.

Mushrooms and Summer Night Music

I know it's a little fuzzy; it was getting dark.

Mushrooms

Last evening, my wife and I took a long, out-and-back walk in our favorite local natural area. By the time we were nearing our turn around point, dusk was coming on strong. However, just at that point, we came across this cluster of mushrooms growing astride the trail and the drainage ditch that bordered the trail. These images don't do them justice--they were strikingly orange-red in real life. They were also very small; notice the green acorn partially obscured by one of the larger caps in the upper center of the images. My best guess, after reviewing the images in Mushrooms of Northeastern North America by Alan and Arleen Bessette and David Fisher is that they are of the genus Hygrophorus, but that's a shot in the dark. I didn't collect any to try to do a more careful identification.

Not fuzzy but a little overexposed by the flash.

Summer Night Music

Last evening was cool here, cool enough to open the windows (vs. leaving them closed with the air conditioner running). It was also cool enough to snuggle in bed. So, we pulled-up the shade and opened the south-facing window in our bedroom, and we spooned for a while, my wife behind me, before we fell asleep. There was a gentle breeze, and crickets and katydids lent some background music. In our part of the Mid-Atlantic, the sky is usually bright with city lights, especially when it's cloudy like it was last night, so the leaves of the gigantic and ancient sycamore tree growing outside our house appeared in filigreed brocade silhouette against the matte-gray sky. The last thing I remember my wife saying before we fell asleep was, "This is just perfect."