This little world

Nature, man. 

It was another hot day. I was productive and, for the most part, stuck to my plan. At lunch, I walked for an hour with my pack and was thoroughly drenched within 15 minutes. I let my thoughts go while still paying attention to the cars and trucks coming at me, the drivers of which were not paying attention to me at all. You've got to be a little nuts, or have no other option, to walk on the shoulder of the road these days. I was thinking that if nip bottles had a five cent deposit, like plastic bottles and aluminum cans do in this state, I could have probably financed a college education with what I've seen in the ditches along this road over the last 20 years. 

The snakes must be hatching. I found two short slim ones dead within 10 feet of each other, And then a car-crushed box turtle. The horseflies are starting to come out and circling madly but not yet biting. Soon though. They're absolute kamikazes with a life span of about two weeks and a balls out, live-fast-die-young mentality. They need a blood meal in order to reproduce and they waste no time getting after it. They've evolved to understand that landing between your shoulder blades, or in the center of your lower back, or on your nose just under your glasses will give them the greatest chance of success. They bite your head and face knowing that the blood's right there and you'll probably knock yourself out trying to stop them - one of their sinister pleasures. 

When I got closer to home, sweat pooled in the lenses of my glasses when I looked down at the ground. I discovered a little green hummingbird on the side of the road that must have collided with traffic. I think it was my guy. I didn't see him or his lady all afternoon. 

That was a blow. I mean, I felt it. We had a long standing relationship, he and I. 

What used to be something like a lawn is now a meadow. The milkweed are producing fruit that draw the butterflies. The first of the wild flowers in the patch I planted are flowering. And tonight, as I made my way to the front door in the dark, there are fireflies. They say fireflies are disappearing because humans don't let it get dark enough for them to thrive anymore. 

Well, that may be so. But it's a regular firefly disco tonight on this homestead, I'll tell ya.