It was 66 degrees F at 5:20 this morning, under a good layer of fog. Alas, again, not much time, but it was wonderful to have this dramatic weather filling full the little space there was.
Some linden trees still had fragrant blooms, but many were finished.
Noticed the mighty dark-green corn rising from the fog in the field to the west.
Near the rabbit bridge over high McCullough Creek heard lots of energetic bird song that I couldn’t identify but that seemed unusually sweet.
Saw the summer prairie’s first Monarda in the fog.
Knew there would be spiderwebs out there, strung with beads of condensed fog, and sure enough, there they were, though the memory of a beautiful foggy morning last summer kept pushing certain expectations of what I should find. For on thing, it seemed harder this morning than last year to get the webs to stand out.
Made me think of spiderwebs, there all the while but usually hidden (especially from unsuspecting prey) and now revealed, so precise and strong in their design yet so easily dismantled, like a Tibetan sand painting.
It was hard not to stay for endless photos of the marvels, but had to keep to the limited time, and remembered how brief the fog would be, and the spider webs, the flowers, each in its turn, this life, really. Reluctant to let go of any of them. All so brief! But reminded myself that every little moment was huge and eternal; it was good to be here at all.
Saw the soft outline of the ears, head, neck, and back of a good-sized deer through the fog back in the prairie.
Walked Rhododendron slowly and receptively along the path toward the Freyfogel Overlook, perfect preparation to catch the little patch of my first blooming Meadowbrook purple prairie clover of the year. There is hardly a more photogenic flower!
And of course made sure to see the lead plant.
The trip reminded me of a beautiful postage stamp: a lot of beauty in a small space.