Love the outdoors? Why seizing the morning could be the way to go this summer
I’m in hideout mode, inside the house with the curtains drawn, blocking out sun. This is the way I get most out of summer: imitating the birds, who get up really early, expend energy feeding nestlings and themselves, then seek shade and rest when the afternoon calls for a nap.
When I rise after sunrise, the world feels refreshed. Yesterday’s petunias, blasted and wilted by afternoon sun, have perked up and welcome the day. Catbirds and robins gulp down honeysuckles, both singing to show their approval of such easy pickings. The cardinal one-ups Mr. Catbird by hopping onto a dead branch in bright morning sun. Now that is what red’s all about.
In back of the house, sunlight is blocked by a phalanx of towering oaks. I can sit on the back deck until 10:30 a.m. before sun tops their uppermost branches.
There’s a garden pond back there. Sipping iced coffee, I admire water striders as they skitter across its calm surface. A meadow frog sits on a rock, half-submerged. I have watched my pond’s frogs for uncounted long moments in hopes I’ll see one snatch a bug. This has happened a whopping two times, but hope still springs eternal.
A wood pewee sings from the depths of the forest. Pee-a-wee, is the sound, soft and sweet as it rises and falls. This drab little flycatcher is heard often but seldom observed. Other sounds tell me my birds have awakened: a sapsucker’s Morse Code-like rat-a-tat-tat; the tanager’s burry refrain. And a junco’s tik-tik. This soft alarm call informs me I’m sitting too close to a window box, inside of which, under flowers, its nest holds a couple of chicks.
Time to vacate and think about gardening chores. Part of the yard is now prone to sunlight, so I put on my beat-up straw hat. Doused with eucalyptus bug spray, it will help hold the gnat hoards at bay.
More: Great Outdoors column: With so many beautiful local birds, how do you pick a favorite?
In one sun-splashed garden, I dead-head day lilies. Next to me, five great-spangled fritillary butterflies sip nectar from a butterfly weed. This perennial goes by the Latin name Asclepias tuberosa. It’s a cousin of common milkweed, another fritillary favorite.
With a three-inch wingspan, the great-spangled appears orange and dark brown in color. It features large, shiny, slivery spots on its underwings. They flash in the sun when this butterfly lands and then folds its wings over its head.
A flash of white yanks my gaze off butterflies and deposits it onto a rock at the edge of the garden.
Hello, common whitetail, my sole dragonfly. This male’s two-inch abdomen comes adorned with a white waxy coating. Its ancestors flew as far back as the carboniferous period, some 350 million years ago.
I’m not feeling that old, but time in the sun starts to signal retreat. Pull back, geezer gardener. Seek shade under cover, until late afternoon, when long shadows creep over the ground.
Author’s note: I’ve posted recent photos of wood pewee, meadow frog, junco, fritillaries on milkweed and common whitetail on my Facebook page.
E-mail Rick at rmarsi@stny.rr.com
This article originally appeared on Binghamton Press & Sun-Bulletin: Take advantage of sunny summer mornings: Great Outdoors column
