Doing my part to make my yard pollinator friendly.






Photographs taken with a bridge camera journaling nature and everyday life in Central Massachusetts and beyond.
Category: My Yard
It’s marigold time in my garden.







An Eastern Cottontail rabbit has arrived in my garden.







I grew up in a rural town in Western Massachusetts, where a large patch of bee balm featured prominently in our garden each summer. One day an elderly couple, complete strangers, stopped their car to ask my father what the fiery red blooms in the garden were.
“It’s bee balm, a perennial. Would you like some?”
He dug up a clump for the pair to take to their summer home at the edge of town.
A few days later, the couple reappeared with a box of children’s books. They were retired teachers, who had noticed my siblings and me playing in the yard.
“We have collected so many books over the years, and since we are retired, we don’t need them. Would your children like some?” they asked my father.
That summer, and for many summers thereafter, the couple brought boxes of books of a variety of genres. Some were almost new; some were gently worn. Each box was a thoughtful gift.
The sight of bee balm might bring thoughts of insects, bright flower petals in a salad, or perhaps herbal tea to most people.
But me? I simply think of books.








A coat of paint on one small structure can sometimes uplift a whole yard.


















Nature decorates the stones in my yard with its own festive gift-wrappings.











A fast-moving snowstorm passed through last night, leaving a thick coating of snow that sparkled with a variety of bluish tints in the early morning shadows.










This cheerful Gray Catbird, who I have named “Cat Stevens”, has returned for the Summer. His day (and thus mine, as well) starts around 5:00 a.m. with continuous merry outbursts of a variety of songs delivered from a nearby treetop.





Baltimore Orioles visit my backyard for a short time each year in early May. This acrobatic guest made the most of my hummingbird feeder, cleverly swinging and balancing so he could take a drink.











Even within the short space of an hour, the Winter light in New England can intensify color dramatically.











I was startled and delighted to spot this red fox kit in my backyard. It didn’t run away until called sharply by its mother, so I had ample time to enjoy its large black twitching ears and black legs, as well as its white-tipped tail, which is a key differentiation between a gray and a red fox.
In mythology, foxes are often described as sly and cunning. This kit, like most young animals, didn’t bring those characterizations to mind. It was completely charming in all its innocence, curiosity and playfulness.














The first Full Moon of the year is named after the howling of the wolves. January is their mating season, so they can often be heard during this month.














The Harvest Moon is the full Moon nearest the start of fall or the autumnal equinox. The Old Farmers Almanac says that the Harvest Moon is so named because:
“…for several evenings, the moonrise comes soon after sunset. This results in an abundance of bright moonlight early in the evening, which was a traditional aide to farmers and crews harvesting their summer-grown crops. “
I was disheartened when I began photographing, thinking that the clouds would “get in the way” of the moon. On the contrary, the drifting cloud cover lent the moon a dreamy and evocative atmosphere.





This juvenile cardinal sometimes eyes me warily, but that hasn’t stopped him from enjoying the bird baths.



What could be better on a beautiful cool afternoon than sitting under your apple tree and being visited by all these “small things”?







We’ve named three friends who make our yard a more cheerful place.
In the late afternoon, Stella the Robin likes to peer down from a high branch, while Sadie the Sparrow takes a break from sitting on her eggs in a nearby nest. Stretch, the half -grown rabbit, is skittish but is becoming more used to human company.



Stretch





Summer can’t be far away when the Gray Catbird returns to Massachusetts.










Seen during this morning’s walk.

People from a planet without flowers would think we must be mad with joy the whole time to have such things about us. ~Iris Murdoch
