creative life

Bugs, birds, and bunnies are stars of the show

June unfolded with hanging wisteria, feral roadside tiger lilies, and mimosa trees laden with pink powder puffs. Little yellows and common blue butterflies flit from coneflower to verbena to dianthus.

This is the time of abundant sweet strawberries, so June’s full moon came to be known as the Strawberry Moon by the Algonquin tribes.

June also hosts the longest day of the year in the Northern Hemisphere, also known as the summer solstice, when the sun is directly over the Tropic of Cancer. This day marks the beginning of the gradual decrease of daylight. The climax in the three-act structure of our summer narrative.

Every workday morning my husband drives down our little rural road and if he sees four or more rabbits, he calls me to report the count. We’ve seen as many as eight bunnies dive into the safety of the brush from the asphalt as we make our way to town. 

The red-winged blackbird is plentiful and I see them among the cattails in the marshy areas and near the river where the mayflies are still swarming. In the 14 years here, this is the first time I’ve seen mayflies in July.

At the end of the month we saw a juvenile red-tailed hawk unsuccessfully attack a snapping turtle which was creeping across the road. We’ve watched with amusement as the clumsy hawk bumps into limbs, flounders, and lands on the ground. It’s as if it “picks up its skirts” and with care, long stride lunges on its lily white legs across the grass for a few feet before it stretches its wings, takes flight and soars over the river.

The month held oven heated air, humidity, and a few cooling thunderstorms. Magnificent, moody sunsets. Bats swooping for a meal at dusk. Evenings into nights sprinkled with fireflies floating and blinking above the dewy grass.

“Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow.” —Shakespeare

See you next year, June.