Approaching the garden gate sends the flicker pair from the bean row into the ash tree. The house finches from the fence tops to the wood's edge. The bluebirds and their first brood from the fence post to the phone wires. The bumblebees remain at the red raspberry flowers, their satisfied hum undisturbed by my hand. Dragonflies cruise the length of the barn, their wings snap loudly as they turn sharply. The hummingbird comes close, startling me with his noisy buzz, and darts nearly under the water pouring from the rainbarrel hose in my hands.
Birds hunt from bamboo posts. Their droppings are on the leaves of the topmost bean plant. The groundhog was seen on the meadow's edge, but not yet in our garden now double fenced (hog fencing for deer with chicken wire overlay for groundhog and rabbit). Slugs have eased their destruction with the dry weather.
Now, as darkness is nearly full, the wood pewee urgently calls with no breaks. He takes the sound space vacated by the Baltimore orioles who continue to sing and call during daylight hours to their nestlings who cause a branch of the pin oak to tremble each time they see a parent with a caterpillar arrive.