Looking through some milkweed for caterpillars this morning. The grasshoppers were everywhere. Didn't see any caterpillars, but saw three of these.
Fruit from the wild apple trees is maturing and dropping. Deer and cows have plenty to eat this time of year.
The corn is amazingly tall this time of year. It's got to be eight feet high. Soon it will be reduced to silage and stubble.
Wild Morning Glory along the road in West Rutland.
I remember my first summer in Vermont. Allyn and I lived in a cabin in the Mt. Snow area. Being from California, the greenery was a revelation. And the wildflowers, I'd never seen anything like it.
Season of grace here on the other side of the creek. Greenery throughout Vermont is adorned with crowns of wild cucumber.
Stumbled on a wild blackberry patch along the Crossroads when walking the other day, and gobbled them all up. They were delicious!
Hazy hot and humid replaced by cool and clear the past few days. Temperatures in the forties this morning. Cows lazily eating apples from the trees that have sprung up in the pastures over the years. Shadow of a big bird glides across a field. Season of sunflowers.
August is upon us. Goldenrod appearing.
The days are noticeably shorter. There are as many bird calls now as there are in the middle of January and that would be none. Their absence has been replaced by the raspy voices of grasshoppers. Shiny black berries appearing in Allyn's blackberry patch.
Back from the wedding/family reunion in Whitefish, Montana. The trip was full of memorable moments, but, honestly, the highlight was a trip we took to the eastern side of Glacier National Park. We headed east along the Flathead River along the border of the park until we encountered the great plains on the eastern side, running through Browning up to Babb and into the Park, ultimately at Many Glacier.
The overriding feeling during this trip was one of immensity, certainly expressed in the colossal peaks of the Rocky Mountains to be found there.
When we were driving through the plains, I happened to stop and step outside of the car for just a moment. There was this same sense of immensity, except there was nothing visible on which to attribute this feeling, just the sound of the wind as it blew through eternity.
I didn't take this photo(Wikiwand), but you get the idea. In his poem The Snowman, Wallace Stevens says,
...and not to think
of any misery in the sound of the wind.
In the sound of a few leaves.
Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place...
I remembered visiting Ryoanji and its zen gardens in Kyoto, Japan many years ago. When we were there, I remember my zen Teacher saying to me that there are some places that help to knit the world together. Certainly this corner of northwestern Montana is one of those places. It's no coincidence that the Blackfoot nation picked this area as their ancestral home. There is great power and sustenance there. Thanks to Russ and my sister Ellen for suggesting that we take this trip to an amazing part of our world.
The seeds of spring have sprouted and are growing fast in the long days of summer.
Some sprouts take longer than others. But they are the most fun to watch as they ripen.
