Have you ever seen a luna moth? We found one on our tree on July 3, just before we headed out to see the holiday fireworks. It was only the second luna moth I had ever seen, and it was a beauty.
Luna Moth
But though luna moths are beautiful, the really impressive thing about them is their size. Livia kindly put her hand next to the moth to provide some scale.
That’s One Big Moth!
If you’ve been reading my blog, you know that I enjoy walking outside and taking pictures of Nature. This has been a bad year for that, though. First we had a harsh winter with too much snow, which made walking outside a chore. Then came a depressing spring. The violets put on a lackluster display. The bees did not show up to pollinate them.
What did show up were the winter moth caterpillars. They arrived in astonishing numbers and they decimated the trees. Just as the trees were trying to recover by putting out a second flush of leaves, dry conditions and an unexpected infestation of gypsy moth caterpillars hit them. This is the worst gypsy moth infestation since the ’80s. That’s not just my opinion. I looked up gypsy moth numbers in Rhode Island, and yeah, they’re very high, and my town was apparently one of the hardest hit.
All of this has been hard to witness. There is nothing I can do to change it. If I go outside, I see struggling trees and gypsy moths everywhere I look. It makes me sad. And I recently read that the Asian longhorn beetle and the emerald ash borer are slowly making their way toward us. Great. That’s just what we need–more invasive, tree-killing species.
But dwelling on the negative is not good for me. I’ve taken a lot of pictures of what I’ve seen (both good and bad) over the last few months. I haven’t found the spirit to write about them yet, but I am going to push myself to get that done. Maybe by writing about the bad things I can stop thinking about them. And maybe I can find some bright side, too.
Expect to see those posts soon.
Dear Marshall,
Here is a story from your year of kindergarten.
Marshall’s kindergarten teacher decided that her class should put on an end-of-year show. Marshall was so excited about the upcoming show that the night before told his Dad exactly how he was going to get ready in the morning. He said, “I’m going to get up, get dressed, go downstairs, eat my breakfast, brush my teeth, etc.”
He meant it, too! He was already up and dressed when I got up, which is amazing, because usually he has to be pushed through every part of the morning routine. He ate only one bowl of cereal and then disappeared. I found out later that he had gone upstairs to brush his teeth. He was ready at least 10 minutes early. Before he got on the bus, he reminded us repeatedly to go to his school for the show (as if we could possibly forget!).
The show took place in the cafeteria, which was nicely decorated with the kids’ artwork. Marshall’s class had prepared several songs and plays. For example, they acted out “Where the Wild Things Are,” which was great.
They also performed an “add-on” story that they had written themselves. It started with one line, then that line was repeated and a second one added, then those two lines were repeated and a third one added, etc. Here’s the progression.
This is the chocolate syrup,
That was poured on by the father,
That married the mother,
That shoveled the dirt,
That grew into grass,
That fed the cow,
That made the milk,
That went into the sundae that Slimey ate.This is Slimey. He ate the sundae!
Each child had been given one line, and they each wore a sign on which they had drawn an illustration of their part of the story. Marshall had been given the last line, and his picture was of Slimey. Slimey was a green snake.
In preparing Marshall for his role, I had stressed to him that he should pay attention for the whole story. I told him to listen for the word “sundae,” because it would let him know that his line was coming up. I was worried that he’d get distracted and forget to say his line.
And that is, of course, exactly what happened. When it came time for him to say his line, his mind was elsewhere, and his teacher had to cue him. But the slight pause had created a sense of anticipation, so the line seemed especially cute when he said it. Everyone laughed (in a nice way) and it was clear that they had enjoyed the show immensely.
This show was a great way to end what had been, in some ways, a difficult year for Marshall. He had gotten used to preschool’s short days and lots of play. Kindergarten’s longer day and focus on academics had been unpleasant surprises for him. He got through the year splendidly, though, and he had some wonderful experiences along the way, as did we!
Love,
Mom
On Tuesday my hubby and I went to Boston to see Rush at the Garden. Our trip started well. After leaving the kids at their Vovos’ house, we hopped a commuter train into the city. We had dinner in Chinatown and bubble tea for dessert. We were informed by a helpful soul that the city was under a tornado warning until midnight, but the weather stayed nice for us as we headed to the nearest T station. We enjoyed looking through the presidential dollar coins that we got as change from the subway ticket machine, because we never see those coins outside of the city. A train arrived promptly and whisked us away to the Garden with time to spare.
But then the concert tickets that I knew weren’t great turned out to be truly awful. We were at the very back of the balcony, against the wall. I didn’t mind the distance or the height. It was cool, actually, to be so high up and looking down at such a huge crowd. But the sound quality was atrocious. It wasn’t just that it was too loud (which it was). It was that the sound was distorted. We were pretty much in a nook, so the sound was just bouncing around like crazy. It was so bad that we decided to leave early and try to catch the earlier train home. Before we left, Rush obligingly played “Tom Sawyer,” which I admit is my favorite Rush song, and a few other songs from that era. I would have been sad to leave if they hadn’t played those songs yet. As we were leaving, we paused at the balcony exit and marveled over how much better the sound was there. We would have enjoyed the concert more if we had stood there all evening!
We had forty minutes to get to Back Bay Station and catch our train. You’d think that that would be enough time given that the Garden is just a few stops away on the same line. But we had forgotten what it is like to take public transportation. Subway trains don’t always come when you need them. We waited and waited for an Orange Line train. Meanwhile, Green Line trains came by regularly. We initially dismissed the idea of taking a green train, because it would have required switching lines and going to a different train station (from which our commuter train was leaving at an earlier time). It seemed too risky, and shortly, it wasn’t even an option.
Meanwhile, there was not an orange train in sight. It wasn’t until we got totally desperate that my old and slightly fuzzy knowledge of Boston’s layout surfaced and it occurred to me that there was a Green Line stop near Back Bay Station. At least I thought so, and my hubby, who had also gone to school in Boston, agreed. So we hopped the next green train and got off at Copley and hustled down a few blocks and hurried into Back Bay Station, which was just where I had thought it would be. Hooray!
Only we were seven minutes too late. Ugh! We had to wait another hour and a quarter for the next train. While we waited, we wandered around Copley Square and Newbury Street. It was still a lovely night, not a tornado in sight, only a hazy crescent moon hanging in the sky. It was wonderful to see the public library building in all its glory (most of the exterior of the building had been blocked off for restoration during the years I went to school in Boston). So, though we were kicking ourselves for having missed our train, we enjoyed our stroll and the sweet combination of nostalgia and novelty. We left ourselves plenty of time to get back to the station, so we didn’t miss the train this time, which is fortunate, because it was the last train for the night.
We got home just after 1:00 a.m. The ground was wet, so we knew that it had rained while we were gone. The next day we found out that a tornado had struck just a few miles down the road. And my old hometown was hit with microbursts, which brought down trees and tree limbs all over town, including on top of my parents’ house (but don’t worry, they’re fine). I’m thankful to have had such a nice evening in Boston, away from all the crazy weather!
This was a week both good and bad.
I had a little adventure the last time that I went to Connecticut for work. I decided to take my lunch break at the local beach. I like this beach because it’s convenient and free. It also has this excellent boardwalk that makes you feel like you’re going somewhere special.
Boardwalk at Silver Sands
It always seems like such a long walk down this boardwalk, but this time there was someone to greet me. He obviously wanted his picture taken. I obliged him.
Red-Winged Blackbird
When I got to the end of the boardwalk it was clear that I had reached the beach at low tide. The entire tombolo to the island was exposed.
Tempting Tombolo
This was an opportunity too great to resist. Today I would finally do something that I had always wanted to do. I would visit Charles Island!
I wasn’t sure how much time I had before the tide would come back in and flood the tombolo, so I walked as fast as I possibly could. It’s farther than it looks. Boy, was I tired and hot by the time I reached the island! And then, where the tombolo meets the island, this sign:
This entire island is closed!
I had forgotten about the birds. Bad timing. Just a few days earlier, I could have explored. But, as much as I would have liked to look around, I wasn’t about to endanger the next generation of shorebirds. So I started the long trek back, and just in time. The tide was starting to come back in.
Here comes the tide,
all dressed in wet!
I had to take my shoes off at this point, which was pleasant for a while. Shoeless, my progress was slower, but I didn’t mind. Having already traversed the lowest and narrowest part of the tombolo, there was no reason (well, aside from work) to rush back, so I took my time. I combed the beach for attractive shells, including jingle shells, which are abundant here. The whole experience was absolutely delightful until my feet started to feel the exfoliating effects of the rocks, shells, and sand, and my face started to feel the toasting it was getting from the sun. Then I put my shoes back on and quickened my pace.
But I paused again on the boardwalk to enjoy the antics of another red-winged blackbird.
Showbird
I read somewhere that a male red-winged blackbird will do just about anything to get noticed. This certainly seemed to be the case today. He put on a marvelous show, complete with singing and dancing. What a beauty.
I arrived back at the office a little later than I ought to have. And I was sweaty, which is not a nice way to be at work, plus I had a mild sunburn. C’est la vie. I am not a bold person in most ways, yet I am blessed with something of an adventurous spirit. When an opportunity like this presents itself to me, I must take it. And I’m glad that I did!
I took the day off from work Wednesday. I was in need of a mental health day. With several hours all to myself, I went for a walk around the library. I always try to get out there at this time of year to see the wild roses. In my memory, the wild roses spread across the woods like sweet-smelling snowbanks in June. Sadly, the trail managers have cut the roses back in some areas, but there are still a few places where they grow densely, if not quite “snowbank” dense.
I wish you could experience how they perfume the woods. Look at this close-up and try to imagine the smell of roses.
I was sad earlier this year when the bumblebees didn’t show up to pollinate the violets. I am happy to say, though, that I have seen an abundance of other insect life this year, including some other potential pollinators, like this one.
Little Bee
And check out this handsome fellow.
Male Black-Winged Damselfly
According to my Audubon field guide, this guy lives along slow streams in forests and flits about like a butterfly. That is exactly where and what he was doing when I found him.
And if that weren’t enough buggy goodness, my husband showed me the most interesting beetle when I got home.
Eastern eyed click beetle
“Here’s looking at you, kid”
You know you’re getting old when your midnight snack occurs well before midnight and it includes fruits and veggies.
I got a call from the school nurse today. She said that Marshall’s eye was bright red, and that he was crying and complaining about pain. She was almost certain that it was pinkeye. She asked me to come pick him up, and she said that he’d need to start on antibiotics tonight or he wouldn’t be able to go to school tomorrow, which would be horrible, because that’s when they’re having the big end-of-school celebration. Oh, no! So I made an emergency appointment with the doctor, then went to the school to pick him up.
He seemed fine when I got there. His eye wasn’t even red. As we were getting into the car, I said, “So tell me what happened.” He said, “Well, first I accidentally poked myself in the eye….”
Ha-ha. It wasn’t pinkeye. It was poke-eye!
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