Doing What Comes Naturally
20 mm 1/15 sec f/6.3 ISO 2200
The sun is out, has been all day, and lately this is too rare a sight. My little wren, who was recently observed frantically building a nest deep inside a large french pitcher that sits on the porch, has laid two perfect eggs, and while the rain kept coming and coming she has barely emerged from the depths of the pitcher. She was having nothing to do with the unrelenting thunderstorms. The mother sparrow, who was busy doing her thing high up on a corner of the same porch, left her eggs frequently during the storms just as she would on sunny days, but she came back quickly each time. No lingering on a nearby branch to watch her nest from afar. She swooped back in over and over after each bold excursion into the pouring rain to perch at the edge of her nest and shake the water off her feathers with resigned irritation. Finally I saw my chance, with this morning's sun, to sneak out to the porch for photos of the nests and their occupants. I almost made it back inside before the sparrow returned and chirped her distress from the tree. I retreated, satisfied, and left her to do what she does best. I'm not into interfering with the birds and the bees and the butterflies doing what they have to do.
200 mm 1/60 sec f/6.3 ISO 800
275 mm 1/400 sec f/6.3 ISO 1100
This is the fifth year that a snowberry clearwing has arrived on schedule. I don't see them for long, and if I'm not keeping a watchful eye on the rhododendron by the pond as May comes to a close, chances are I will miss them. For about a week, they are obsessed with the light pink blossoms of that shrub, rather than the bolder, deeper pink rhododendron at the front of the house. Nope, his pollinating partner is the pink rhododendron that drapes over the little pond. I sit at the pond in the early evening and watch him working away at those flowers, zipping and darting and barely landing for five seconds on one flower because there are so, so many other flowers to dive into. He is as frenzied as the new, tiny bee or the wee butterfly before age and experience allow the bees and butterflies to slow down a bit and savor their days among the flowers. Maybe the snowberry clearwings know that the rhododendron doesn't like the heat, and that there are years where the sun is harsh and the flowers are gone before they know it. You have to take those opportunities that nature graciously hands you and not waste a minute taking it for granted.
200 mm 1/200 sec f/6.3 ISO 200
Speaking of bees, there was a late afternoon, after another round of rain swept through, that a particular bee was brought out to hang out with the pond irises. He was slow, he was lazy, probably because he again had to take cover all day, and refused to be rushed with his end-of-day work. If an iris was too wet and drippy, he was forced to ignore it. There were two he liked, all but dry, and he was content to buzz between them until dusk sent him on his way.
250 mm 1/250 sec f/6.3 ISO 140
The rain has definitely put a damper on the dragonflies just trying to be themselves. But on those days when the sun and the heat are miserable and air conditioning is the only way to go, the dragonflies will party at the pond for hours. It is worth twenty minutes of sweating to go out and greet them. I found one last week that was more vain than the others and posed quite nicely for some portraits. Usually, they are annoyed by my appearance and not nearly as happy to see me as I am to see them. But this little guy was pretty chill. He'd look at me, tilt his head to the left and to the right, then casually stare straight ahead to let me know that his right profile was highly photogenic and a proper photo was mine for the taking. He knew he looked pretty fine and was owning every minute of it. Between puddles that become lakes and thunder and lightening that ruin outdoor plans, when a summer day calms down, being you in all your finery is exactly what you are supposed to be.
