I’m not an expert, by any means, which is why I often refer to the various flora and fauna that I come across as “those yellow things” or “those orange things” so if I hazard a guess at a name and get it wrong, I hope you will forgive me.
There were lots of wildflowers in bloom; yellow, purple, blue, white and pink things and this Red Admiral was one of dozens that fluttered around me, some of them landing on my shoulders and shoes as I walked along the sunny, wood-chipped and pebbled pathways.
It’s amazing how many different sounds you can hear when you stop to listen. The frogs were kicking up a tremendous racket over by the pond, the birds were singing in the trees and the stream was babbling its watery way over stones and fallen branches.
There’s one sound, however, that I dread hearing and which is all too common at this time of year. I’m referring to the shrill cry of the redwing blackbird. Ever since I was attacked by one of these feisty characters, and that on more than one occasion, I’ve been very wary of getting too close to their nesting sites. I realize they’re only defending their territory but for someone like me who is very much afraid of birds flying around their head, it’s a terrifying experience and one that I do my best to avoid. Unfortunately this very often causes me to hurry along when I would much rather take my time and look around.