Bex Hall

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nature journal

August is the Sunday of Summer

August Phenology Wheel 2021

August is the Sunday of Summer. And like a Sunday, we enjoy the vestiges of a rhythm we have become comfortable. August brings changes all around us, if you look.

The once majestic sunflowers hang their heads, tired. The verdant hillsides are suffused with a dullness. Morning birdsong comes later than usual. Queen Anne has traded her white lace for fields of purple ironweed and feathery goldenrod.

Hummingbirds are scarce, woolly bear caterpillars are on the march, and foggy mornings are frequent.

Cain and Mabel

August gave us a grand show, though. The morning glory blossoms were at their deepest velvet. Electric pink milk thistle appeared in fields. Pokeweed berries ripened to the color of burgundy wine. Orange jewelweed dotted the landscape.

August nature journal
Full Sturgeon Moon

The air still wraps itself around us like a steamy wet blanket, but soon we’ll use a real one to ward off the chill. Windows will reopen and curtains will billow with cool breezes. Bedtime stories will come earlier and car headlights once again necessary for the morning commute.

American Goldfinch on spent coneflower

When the sun shines in a September blue sky, it will illuminate mountains sprinkled with multicolored confetti against a backdrop of windswept white clouds. There will be hints of pepper and sassafras in the air. Squirrel’s nests will appear among the treetops, their height perhaps an indicator of the level of snow we might expect in winter.

Banded Tussock Moth and caterpillar

I heard cicadas for the first time this summer on Saturday the 21st. According to folklore, six weeks from then will be our first frost here. I’ve marked the calendar for October 2nd, just to see.

August, the Sunday of Summer

There’s only a little while longer for short sleeves and flip-flops. Butterflies, bumblebees, and trees thick with leaves. For this Sunday of summer, I relish the remnants of this relaxed time before I turn the page and begin anew. 

The crickets felt it was their duty to warn everybody that summertime cannot last forever. Even on the most beautiful days in the whole year – the days when summer is changing into autumn – the crickets spread the rumour of sadness and change.”

E.B. White, Charlotte’s Web
August 2021 nature journal

Nature folklore and weather predictions

Old wive’s tales have some elements of truth

This past Saturday (21st), I heard the first cicadas in our area. I’ve marked the calendar for October 2nd, six weeks from then, to see if their prediction of a first frost is true.

And today I heard for every foggy morning in August, it will snow that many days this winter. Since I’ve been keeping track with the nature journal and phenology wheel, I’ll check on this next Spring.

Mushrooms

Small things to look forward to. 😊

What natural folklore have you seen come true in your area? Send me an email and let me know.

Foggy morning with Sissy

Goldfinches brighten faded flower garden

Their appearance marks the beginning of the end of summer

Ouch!

“Ow, ouch, ow!”

He seemed to say.

American Goldfinch on coneflower

Every August I notice the American Goldfinches when they visit the spiky seed heads of the coneflowers beside our mailbox. It might be their bright color or it could be their flight call, which sounds like “po-ta-to-chip”, that gets my attention, I’m not sure. 

Whatever it is, the visits of these wild canaries always makes me smile.

Amazing paint you can make right now

From nature’s own Pokeweed, but use caution

Poke berries

NOTE: Pokeweed is considered poisonous and toxic. Use gloves and do not eat. Keep out of the reach of children and pets. Use with caution.

From my nature walk last week, I picked some Pokeweed berries and used the juice to paint the Pokeweed I sketched in my nature journal.

Pokeweed berry paint

If you want to try it yourself, just squish some berries and grab a brush. You can make a batch for later use, according to a recipe I found in the NY Times:

One cup of pokeweed berries, squished and strained into a bowl.

1/2 tsp. salt, 1/2 tsp. vinegar, stir.

Keep in a glass jar with a screw cap in a cool place.

Makes a beautiful paint or ink. Have fun!

A nature walk as an artist date this week

You don’t have to know the name to see what you need to see

Tiger swallowtail

For this week’s artist date, I wandered in nature with my camera. Some subjects were old favorites, like the touch-me-knots, which I used to call popsie-doodles when I was a child. Their seed pods ready to burst open into a curlicue with a light touch.

Touch-me-knots

Or the Pokeweed plants and their deep purple berries. I used to crush them to use as paint and the color matched my favorite syrup, boysenberry, ergo this plant was a boysenberry, which I believed was its name for many years.

Pokeweed

But some names I didn’t know, like the tall, bushy mauve flowers or the yellow butterfly with black stripes or the caterpillar with spikes on its spikes.

A guide tells me the light purple flowers are Joe Pye weed. According to legend, Joe Pye was a Native American herbalist who used it to cure a variety of illnesses, including typhoid fever.

The butterfly appears to be a Tiger Swallowtail.

The spiny caterpillar appears to be a buck moth, which gets its name because it’s one of the few moths that fly during the day during deer season.

Buck moth caterpillar

I went on the artist date this week intending to capture snapshots of nature to use as reference for drawing. But my curiosity demanded to know the names of what I saw and I did that research afterward. Now I know. And so do you.

But the real magic happened before I looked up the names of everything. The real magic was being in nature. I didn’t see Joe Pye weed or a tiger swallowtail or a buck moth caterpillar. 

Joe Pye weed

No, what I saw were mauve air castles nestled among verdant waves dappled with sunlight and shadow. I saw delicate yellow and black fairies dance around the parapets while an armor clad guard stood watch.

I saw summers long past filled with boysenberry painted faces and contests with my cousin to see who could get the most popsie-doodle pops. Seed pod curlicues tied into necklaces. Caterpillars collected and held captive while we witnessed them become whatever they were to become.

To see, we must forget the name of the thing we are looking at.”

—Claude Monet

Until next week, all my love.