a midsummer's eve

The midsummer forest has its own special look—the bright greens of spring have faded but the dry and brownish shades have yet to appear.  At the moment, the woods are a deep shade of emerald, made brighter by the golden rays of late afternoon.  A few of the annual plants are gone, and the forest floor is a bit more open than it was in May and early June.  When the temperature is comfortable, as it has been this week, the time is a lovely one to walk in the woods.

Each season and mini-season has charms, of course.  Midsummer is not always my favorite, though much of that is because of heat and humidity. When those are not oppressive, the season is delightful and a fun time to explore in the forest.

Last evening was one of those times, and my wandering was accompanied by the sound of wood thrush, still singing, deeper in the forest.  The mosses are already sprouting seed pods, tiny little groups of stalks like miniature fields of wheat, all within a span the size of an open hand.
Back at the cabin I found a lovely and large moth, likely a sphinx moth, that refused to light and let me look at it closely.  It fluttered deeper into the woods and finally away from me, forever to remain a mystery, like so much of the forest, especially on a midsummer eve’s ramble.