Winter in the South comes with (the moist) air of mystery.
Making the snow fly
Little finch makes the snowflakes fly as she feeds on the sumac.
Muted colors
A purple finch and his mate contrast with the fog-muted fall colors of the Ouachita Mountain ridge behind them. Taken this morning.
At the edge
This spider, its tiny body almost doubled over as it clings to the slenderest grass seed head, certainly seems on the edge.
Ghost leaf
Arkansas summer mornings give rise to interesting conditions, thanks to the high humidity and the difference in temperature between inside and outside. Condensation on the windows can be especially telling — as if Nature was deploying her own forensic technique to seek the whereabouts of creatures and things. On this July morning, this ghostly outline appeared on the glass — retracing the landing spot of some storm tossed leaf.
Wind-driven swing dance
The scene was like some botanical swing dance, with the partners tethered by the slenderest strand of spider silk. A hot summer breeze kept the seed parachute aloft, but never out of reach of its partner.
Blue singin’ the blues
When indigo buntings sing, do they hit blue notes?
Season’s first ripe blackberry
The wild blackberries here on the mountain are a two-edged sword. The berries are delicious (especially when cooked into a cobbler with a lemon cornmeal crust), but the harvest is a thorny affair that often results in ripped sleeves, pierced digits and purple fingertips. Spotted the first few ripe ones yesterday.
(Drops head sheepishly) Yes. I ate them.
Me and my shadow
While pausing for a moment on a weekend walkabout, a daredevil butterfly began flying tight circles around me at knee level. Several mad minutes passed as I tried to follow his flight round and round and round. Never could catch the little booger, but settled for his shadow.
The (Urban-Wildlife) Interface 