I was sitting on the back deck minding my own business one afternoon when I heard a whirring in the willow tree. I thought it was a hummingbird, or a chickadee. The birds are scarce this time of the year - the robins have gone, the little yellow and red finches seem to have disappeared too. It was then I saw it. A male cardinal, in all his red feathered and magnificent un-camouflaged glory. It is incredible how these birds continue to exist. Their bright red colours a calling card to all predators. It's no wonder they are shy, elusive creatures, constantly on the lookout. Unless they are looking for a mate, in which case I have witnessed them perched on rooftops calling their song. But this particular cardinal was on a mission. He seemed intent on something on the tree branch. But he only plucked a few leaves, and then a few dead twigs from it. Then I spied its target. A nicely sized spider in the middle of its web, spanning from the tree to a deck ...
August has arrived with a pang in my heart. It is still officially summer, but already there is a change in the air. A palpable difference to the atmosphere. The flowers are wilted - their leaves drooping with lack of rain. We are having a hot, dry summer, with little precipitation. And it is showing. The pink hydrangeas on the corner of the deck showed off only one small flower this year. The blue rose of Sharon's are barely blooming; the mallows have already given up after two small burgundy flowers emerged yesterday. And the strawberry-vanilla hydrangea tree is reluctantly offering up only small white blooms; it should be in its showy abundance this time of year. It has been a tough one for the garden. The grass is burnt yellow, the hosta leaves are brown, the tiger lilies are drying and crisp. Thankfully the air is still warm, and the cool chill of autumn has not yet begun. But the end of the season is nigh, it is everywhere and yet nowhere all at once....