I have always been fond of bumblebees. They have a charming furriness about them, and they are not very aggressive toward humans — certainly compared with paper wasps and yellowjackets. They have such charming alternative early English names, too — the drumbledrane, the dumbledore, or, the one which Charles Darwin knew them by, the humblebee. I photographed this one ambling from one henbit bloom to another on a delightfully mild spring afternoon.
Another trio of tulip poplar images, from today’s Piney Woods Church Road outing.
I own half a dozen field guides to flowers. Yet not one of them includes sticky mouse-ear chickweed (Cerastium glomeratum), originally native to Eurasia. Most of my guides begrudgingly include a few of the ten chickweed species found in Eastern North America, such as common chickweed (no surprise there). Newcomb’s Wildflower Guide includes eight species, but goes out of its way to put chickweeds in their place, describing them as “often weedy and insignificant.” Admittedly, the flowers are minute, and easily missed. But is it fair to ignore such a common flower as this one, considering how many of us might encounter it in our own backyards? I am still greatly enamored of native woodland wildflowers, like bloodroot and hepatica, trillium and trout lily. But none of these grows on my property, or even in the adjacent woodlots, while chickweed is everywhere. Apparently it is possible for a flower to be so common that it is overlooked.
But not today. Here is a photograph of the sticky mouse-ear chickweed, in all its glory, just coming into bloom along Piney Woods Church Road.
I have been reading lately about the Miksang way of photography, also known as contemplative photography — an approach inspired by Tibetan Buddhism. The central premise of Miksang (which means “good eye” in Tibetan) is that photography can emerge out of flashes of pure perception — sudden moments when some aspect of the world around us impinges upon our consciousness in a powerful and immediate way. When we train ourselves to tune into those experiences, we can use a camera as a way of creating equivalents — visual representations of them.
This is all a long-winded explanation for why I ended up taking this photograph of a single branch of cedar lying in a mud rut along Piney Woods Church Road today.
If I’m not going to be a popular photographer, I think I will at least be a poplar one! The tulip poplar leaves are continuing to unfold from their buds along Piney Woods Church Road, and I remain entranced by the process. Here are three more images, from yesterday’s walk.
It’s a moth…. It’s a bee…. It’s a fly….
I have to admit that, as flies go, the black-tailed bee fly (Bombylius major) is quite attractive — a hedgehog with wings. Admittedly, one has to get past its rather long and pointy proboscis. But that is a tool for sipping nectar, not causing harm. The flies hover like hummingbirds over flowers, their beating wings generating a high-pitched whining sound. Bee fly larvae parasitize the larvae of solitary bees and consume their food stores. The adult bee flies supposedly emerge from their underground bee burrows in early summer; this particular one seems to be a couple of months early.
After a couple days of on-again, off-again rain, skies are gradually clearing. Along Piney Woods Church Road, a low black wisp of cloud races across the sky.
Here are two more photographs from a rainy day walk along Piney Woods Church Road. The first is another water droplet beside the road; the second is yet another image of tulip poplar leaves opening. I can imagine an entire gallery space filled solely with images of tulip poplar buds and leaves in early springtime….
Walking Piney Woods Church Road in a light rain, I find the roadside trees and shrubs bedecked with jewels. Ah, but water droplets are frustratingly difficult to photograph!
Along Piney Woods Church Road, some tulip poplar saplings are continuing to burst their buds and fill out with leaves. I have never noticed the process before — how graceful the unfurling can be. I could fill my camera’s memory cards with photographs of buds and tiny leaves.
