Restless Weather

There has been a subtle strangeness to this first week of October.

Mornings have been cool and misty, burning into noontime temperatures worthy of late August or mid-September.  Evenings have drawn in, early dusk melting into moon-washed nights.

The nameless rose at the edge of the garden has put forth a clutch of sweet-scented blooms, undamaged by Japanese beetles.

Lavender spills over the steps below the side porch; a few butterflies, an assortment of bees and hornets are enjoying the lavender, sampling the dark red cockscombs that have taken over at the edge of the walk.

Two juvenile hummingbirds lingered after the parent birds departed; we watched them late last Thursday afternoon as they zoomed around the feeder--by Friday they were gone.

I wondered: did they launch at first light or wait until the sun had driven away the mist and warmed the air? 

I left the feeders up, having read that hummers don't migrate as a group, but was surprised when a week after our resident birds left, a lone male flew in as I was working on the porch.

He seemed nervous and uncertain, darting at the feeder, but not landing to drink. 

I backed carefully to my rocking chair and was immediately joined by Willis the Cat who may have been at least partly the reason for the bird's wariness.

Willis and I sat quietly while the hummer swooped back and forth at the edge of the porch, his green plumage shimmering in the sun.

Finally deciding that we posed no threat, he perched on the feeder and drank deeply.

He was still here this afternoon, coasting in on the rising wind, tanking up on the sugar syrup.

It has been overcast today, the wind a constant presence, leaves drifting down . 

I was filling the kettle for tea when I saw the deer slip out of the woods below the barn.

We usually see them in groups of two to five, but this was a lone visitor,

The wind was blowing toward me, and I was able to walk close enough to use the zoom lens for photos. 

Several hours later, just before dark I gave no thought to deer when I walked out the path into the woods where I dump cat litter.

Either this deer or one of its friends bounded out of the underbrush and dashed ahead of me into the darkness.

Now, at nearly midnight, the wind has dropped, a fine mist of rain is falling.

The air is soft, the moon hidden.

Perhaps this week autumn weather will move in.