Swifts, Swallows and Yellow Flowers
Post #19
Summer and fall have begun to dance. The north breeze inserts an occasional cool morning into the heat and humidity. Where spring bursts onto the scene and seems to take over from winter in a flash, summer and fall perform a long dance.
Bird migration in the fall is also long and languid, unlike the fast and furious pace in the spring. The birds seem to take a more meandering path, stopping to find the goodness of seeds and bugs produced by the warmth of summer. Young birds wander off the beaten path and sometimes a sea-going bird will show up in the middle of the country, like the long-tailed jaeger seen this week at a lake about an hour north of where I live. Migrating birds might linger a few days or even weeks.
Walking onto the trail in the first cool mornings this week, the grass was thick with dew and the air was (at least for a few days) clear of the haze of heat and western wildfire smoke. I stand and watch the swarm of dragonflies spiraling above me. The pre-sunrise light flashes from their wings and looks like sparkles swirling in the air.
As the sun rises, the swifts and swallows arrive from wherever they roost for the night, joining the dragonflies in the bug eating fiesta. The swifts and swallows are forming large flocks now, preparing for their eventual migration. Dozens of chimney swifts, cliff swallows and barn swallows dart and circle overhead, moving individually even as the entire flock moves in a giant column that seems to extend infinitely up into the sky or at least further than my eyes can see. The column moves like a gentle cyclone, crossing over the cove, disappearing from sight, then somehow coming back around and crossing over again.
Cedar waxwings and eastern kingbirds join the bug eating fray, landing in the tree tops and using their perch as a base to dart out for bugs and land again. The youngsters chase and pick at each other just like human brothers and sisters, alternately playing and catching bugs and playing again.
It is chaotic and yet ordered, completely serene in its madness, crazy and perfectly as it should be, calming in the way of a rocking boat. I imagine this has happened for thousands of years. It is comforting that it is happening again.
On the ground, the ditches and fields have turned completely yellow. Goldenrod stretches as far as the eye can see and small sunflowers and other little yellow flowers join in. A few weeks ago I was dreaming of yellow, wanting to put yellow everywhere in my little home and now nature has taken care of it for me.
If my connection to nature wanes in the summer, it is revitalized in the fall. Perhaps this is why Labor Day always feels like the turning of a new year to me. I’m ready to see what this new year holds.
Absolutely beautiful. Your words are poetic and your photos are stunning as always.
Having been born in November, fall -- or even just the idea of it -- is life-giving and a new beginning for me as well. And I, too, love the "slow dance" of the tempo of nature and life. Spring is young and brash, but fall really does mirror the onset of golden years -- and dresses for the dance in gold to mark the occasion. Lovely images and words, as always.