First Days of Summer Walkabout

Summer greets Western Massachusetts with a hot soup of humid heat. The rising sun casts a net of sweltering, swelling, sanguine rays piercing skin and leaf alike. 

Spreading landscape's spring green evaporates into a darker coating . . .  void of its former verdant glow. It is a great time for butterflies, except for all the many round eyes and beaks hunting and tearing at their lovely gowns. Catbirds and Phoebes especially are relentless in their pursuit of the many Tiger Swallowtails nectaring on the Tree Lilac and numerous other plants and shrubs in the North and Middle Meadow Gardens. 

Bluebirds are looking forward to a second brood and the female seems somewhat less concerned with my presence in the Middle Meadow Garden. Her gaze is a bit curious of my cutting, pulling and photographing. During the heat wave, she is busy building her new nest. 

Her fledglings are never far away. The first days of summer finally settle into more temperate tones and we enjoy cooler days and nights. The female bluebird is in the nest box sitting with her new eggs, while her fledglings perch patiently on the nestbox. They are a sweet family. It is quite impressive how quickly the fledgelings grow up and become self sufficient.

The parent bluebirds become even busier when the new brood hatch and are constantly bringing the nestlings bits of food harvested in the gardens. 

A new addition to the gardens. A simple metal arbor . . . something to grow on. I love how it nearly disappears into the garden green. Our 'New Dawn' rose took right to it, as did all the birds. They enjoy another perch to eye the gardens for flying, crawling or tunneling food. 

Those first summer hot days pushed flowers to their limits quickly. Japanese iris folds are simply elegant. Walking down into the Lower Garden seeing the apple trees and grasses rebounding there are many birds coming and going from the blueberry fields. Just today I saw a near head-on collision . . . there is so much excitement over the bumper crop of berries. Looking up towards the Rock Maples . . .  a hydrangea holds the light within the lace-like form of blossoms.

Entering the South Field I enjoy the sight and flights of the Tree Swallows. They are a favored and revered bird here for their constant sweeping the sky of biting bugs and their gurgling calls. I shall miss them, as they will be flying off with their fledgelings any day. 

This year the Tree Swallows in both the south and north fields were so tolerant of me and allowed me very close to their nest box . . . yet I did not get any photos of the young ones being fed. This fledgeling is trying to follow her parent back into the nest box. A sibling or two are still inside. Stepping back up towards the Upper Garden . . . wild roses stand just outside the downstairs apartment entrance. 

Phoebe nestlings are about to flee the nest too. It seems a bit crowded. Standing in the downstairs doorway I get a pretty good view. 

It is a privilege to see the gardens grow and these precious birds rear their young, even with all their antics that cause a bit of angst. I so wish they did not dine on butterflies! The birds are all so busy with their fledgelings and I cannot keep up with all that is growing in the gardens and in my other work. I finally found my first Monarch butterfly eggs on the milkweed within the paths. Life is full and it is good to feel strong. I wish as a citizenry we were stronger in our opposition to the outrageous injustices unfolding everyday. We are but stewards for the future and what will we be leaving them. 

Spring Spreads Swaths of Sweetness in Petals and Song

"She beckons, and the woods start~

She nods and all begin~

Surely ~ such a country

I was never in." 

Emily Dickinson

Viburnum carlesii before White Birch

Spring is spry and gay . . .  spreading sheets of sweet petals . . . swathes of green surface. 

Flowering Quince

Magnolias and Weeping Chery

Returning birds and songs fill the cool spring air. A magical time of year.

Tree Swallow seen from under the Weeping Cherry tree

Strife strings along with the season ~ 

As well as wing embraces ~ a gentle feather waltz.  

In the lower garden, tea and painting are most pleasant beneath the cherry tree chimes, though it might be called bee chimes too. The sounds remind one of a swarm of bees. This is such a common tree but not to me. I have tamed this being and we are dear old friends. Breezes begin to whip about her wispy delicate blooms, reminding one of pink confetti falling to the ground. 

Middle meadow garden with bluebird nest box before apples

Ms. Bluebird and I are busy gathering detritus ~ she making a nest, while I build compost. 

Mr. Bluebird is diligent about guarding their home. 

"Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul.

And sings the tune

Without the words

And never stops at all." 

Emily Dickinson

We do always hope that birds will find our housing satisfactory, but all is not well in the housing market here at Flower Hill Farm. Strife indeed . . .  this is one way I would say . . . that humans are a bit more well-mannered . . . we overbid but surely do not get into fights over housing. Perhaps that is not totally true. Surely we never try to take away each others partners in the process. For now, in the garden there are chase scenes and downright brawls over the nest boxes . . . ah, but things will settle down in a bit. 

What is wrong with this picture?

Off with you ~ Ms. Bluebird has a nest in this house. There are two other houses that might suit you.

Here I thought the bluebirds were about to dive down upon a Tree Swallow . . . but hold on . . . 

 A skirmish between two male bluebirds is afoot.

The first Mr. Bluebird holds fast to his home and partner.

Walnut hill is coming alive in a myriad of green hues. I have eyed a number of returning warblers and the sounds of songs are lively at dawn. Our woodcock is still flying up high, performing his courtship wing dance, but it is now harder to hear him for all the other trills and twitters in concert ~ just as dawn paints the sky a tinge of rose.

Spring is joy.  

Earth Day 2012
The earth breathes out and you are never forgotten dear Michael ~ Poet and activist for the Earth.

Heat Wave Rush to Green Bluebirds Myrtle Warblers Dash of Pileated End of Day Rainbow Way