It feels like summer has turned a corner. I guess that's what happens in August. We're finding adventures in little bits.
A young Cooper's Hawk tried to pick off a few goldfinches from the feeder. He missed, then hung around for an hour or so making a new plan. Still no luck.
Today a Giant Swallowtail visited each of the zinnias.
I grew up on a country road about a half mile from a zinnia farm, a saturated blur of orange, pink, yellow and red. The elderly couple who lived there, holding out against suburban sprawl, had the sweetest little roadside field and farmstand. For me, each random bouquet bundled in a rubber band was a lesson in color. My mom had a red convertible Corvair that we thought was the coolest ride ever. When the top was down, she would let us finish the trip home sitting up on the back. Three kids singing to the radio and waving our zinnia bouquets at the fireflies.
August. The light is changing and the days are spectacularly beautiful.
Even when it rains.
Backyard picnics. Cherries. Baseball. Night chirpers.