Tuesday, September 01, 2015

September 1 blues

September sunrise with setting moon

Summer is giving me at least one more blast of hazy, hot and humid weather over the next three days.  But in other ways the oncoming season of autumn is ever more evident.  The barn swallows have left the mountain, no longer plying the mosquitos above this little pond.  They left on or about August 27 or 28, as regular as ever. The swallows are the first to go, though I haven’t heard the yellow-billed cuckoo for a while.

I now frequently see red-leafed poison ivy, tall stands of purple thistle and less undergrowth as the annual plants begin to die back.  Mullein is brown and looks burned.  The constellation Orion is high in the morning sky before dawn once again. Even my chickens are producing fewer eggs than in the early days of spring.

Now, if only the temperature would follow suit.  It will, I know, and likely by Friday, but I’m impatient.  After all, it is September.

Friday, August 28, 2015

Going by so quickly


Some days I wish these lazy, hazy days of summer weren’t so crazy.  Too many paths go unwalked, too many stars aren’t stared at and too many birds aren’t looked for.

The season moves, and I’ve already missed so much of it. Even though summer isn’t my favorite of the seasons, some things can only be enjoyed and seen in summer, and so much of it is already gone.  The local soft ice cream stand closes on Labor Day, and I’ve only partaken once.  I managed to get my swimsuit out of winter storage but never got to go swimming.  I have yet to have a cookout or make s’mores. The seat cushions on my outside chairs need replacing, and the stores have already put them away until next summer.

Wednesday, August 26, 2015

You just know..


You know the summer is turning towards fall when...

...the goldenrod turns golden.  Last evening was the first I found some that had turned color.  I’ve been keeping an eye on it, waiting for the green seeds to turn golden. The arrival of the goldenrod and also of the purple-flowered thistles are a sure sign that late summer is here.  

The change that has the most impact on me, and possibly on my readers, too, is the every-shortening hours of daylight.  It’s dark when I walk the dogs in the morning, and I now have to rush to clean up after the evening meal if I want to walk around the mountain before it gets dark again.  And this is only the beginning of those shorter hours of daylight. I suppose that’s a small price to pay for the next season’s cooler temperatures.  Still, on some ideal earth with a different tilt, I’d order up cooler temperatures AND longer hours of daylight.

Monday, August 24, 2015

Turkeys on parade


Summer has reached the later part of its season here on Roundtop.  The woodland birds have fledged and are out on their own—often with clownish feather-do’s in some weird combination of baby feathers and adult plumage.  Saturday night saw a decent early-season migration.  On Sunday morning I saw a flock of robins, about half of them this year’s young birds.  I also found a few warblers, which is never more than I see here.  Roundtop isn’t a warbler hotspot, by any means.

On Friday evening I found, again, the family of wild turkey I occasionally see.  They were stalking the edge of a cornfield, the young poults already grown since the last time I saw them, which wasn’t very long ago.  There were more of them than I could fit in the frame--another hen and several more poults.
I
 can see a change in the undergrowth of the forest—there’s less of it.  The first of spring annual plants often die back after they flower.  For me, this amounts to being able to see deeper into the forest again, instead of finding a thick curtain of greenery obscuring anything more than 10 feet away.

This summer is shaping up to be less hot than average—it’s still too warm for me.  I’m ready for fall with the first day of 90 degree day.  This year, that came later than it often does and didn’t last as long as usual, too.  At least this summer wasn’t a constant stream of hazy, hot and humid days, but instead was a constant stream of warmer than average days, with no seesawing back and forth between hot and cooler.  It was just constantly in the mid to upper 80s, and the night time temperature didn’t drop as it often does.  As a result the overall effect was a summer about 2.5 degrees hotter than the average of the previous years.  Right now it looks like the 10th hottest August of recorded temperatures in this area.  As I said earlier, I am ready for fall, but I know I’m going to have to wait a while longer.

Wednesday, August 19, 2015

Pokeweed

Pokeweed

It’s been a hot week on Roundtop Mtn., and I’ve had a busy week with a variety of evening activities, so my times of being out and about in the forest were more limited than usual for me.  As a result, my observations have been more subdued or unsuccessful than usual.

I’ve been looking for nighthawks in the evenings—no luck so far.  I’ve been looking for swallows that are not the ubiquitous barn swallows—ditto, no luck.  Anything that moves is hiding, it seems to me.  Or perhaps, the forest creatures have simply found that ultimate cool spot and aren’t about to leave it and let something else take it away from them.

Pokeweed flowers with green berries in background
About the only thing I have noticed are things that do not move.  Today the thing that is not moving is the pokeweed. I found a huge bush of it, and what I found most interesting that the same bush contained pokeweed berries in a variety of stages—flowering, fully budded but green and fully ripe.  In case you didn’t know, I’m going to remind you that pokeweed is toxic and poisonous to humans.  Birds love it and are unaffected, as are some smaller animals. I’m told the plant becomes more toxic the more mature it becomes, and death can occur by eating only a few raw berries.  Animals often avoid the berries because they are bitter, but farm animals have been poisoned by leaves that end up in their fodder.  Humans can eat the leaves, provided they are boiled several times, with the water discarded after each boiling.  Thanks, but I think I’ll pass on this one.

Anyway, I just enjoy looking at the berries and the birds that come to the bushes for them.

Friday, August 14, 2015

a midsummer's eve

The midsummer forest has its own special look—the bright greens of spring have faded but the dry and brownish shades have yet to appear.  At the moment, the woods are a deep shade of emerald, made brighter by the golden rays of late afternoon.  A few of the annual plants are gone, and the forest floor is a bit more open than it was in May and early June.  When the temperature is comfortable, as it has been this week, the time is a lovely one to walk in the woods.

Each season and mini-season has charms, of course.  Midsummer is not always my favorite, though much of that is because of heat and humidity. When those are not oppressive, the season is delightful and a fun time to explore in the forest.

Last evening was one of those times, and my wandering was accompanied by the sound of wood thrush, still singing, deeper in the forest.  The mosses are already sprouting seed pods, tiny little groups of stalks like miniature fields of wheat, all within a span the size of an open hand.
Back at the cabin I found a lovely and large moth, likely a sphinx moth, that refused to light and let me look at it closely.  It fluttered deeper into the woods and finally away from me, forever to remain a mystery, like so much of the forest, especially on a midsummer eve’s ramble.

Thursday, August 13, 2015

You know it's mid-August when...


...It’s time for the Perseid meteor shower! I got up at 4 a.m. this morning and went up to the Roundtop’s north parking lot to watch the Perseids.  Wow!  What a show!  For once it was clear and no moon was up to brighten the sky.  Orion, that familiar winter warrior,  was just above the eastern horizon.  The milky way stretched the length of the sky.

I saw lots of meteors—one almost large enough to call a fireball, several really good “ordinary” meteors and lots of little ones.   In the 45 minutes or so I was there before dawn intervened and ruined the viewing I probably saw 35-40 meteors.  If I’d brought something to lay on I could have seen more of the sky at one time and likely found even more. It was the Perseid show I’d seen in years.

...I have to wear my headlamp in the mornings when I walk the dogs again. The days are growing shorter.

...The thistles are blooming and the American goldfinch are enjoying the riches.  Pokeweed berries look fully formed but are still green—it’s not that late in the season just yet.