The Daisy Lover

It was the July 4th holiday, and I had the day off work. It was unseasonably cool, for a July 4th. It is usually hotter than all heck this time of year. But it wasn't, for once. And so in the morning, my husband and I took a bike/hike up to our local gamelands, SGL 176, the Scotia Pine Barrens.

I was surprised at the number of cool critters we spotted. Maybe they are always there this time of year but I am not. When it gets to the high heat of summer, we spend most of our outdoors time swimming at the state parks rather than hiking in the woods.

We found the woods lovely and green. It's been too dry here lately, and we needed some rain, which we would receive later in the day, just in time to turn the local July 4th fireworks show into a smoky washout (according to those who were there . . . my husband and I haven't attended the State College 4th Fest fireworks since I moved out of town in 2004; when I lived in town, we could and did walk to them, but not so anymore. . . . )

We walked along the green power lines and I studied the transformers from below. The lines and angles always make good shots, but a biting fly was pestering me, so it was a short-lived study.

And then we saw and heard a pair of riders coming from our left, just in time to see a single rider coming from our right. They met in the middle of the power line clearing. The horses bumped noses, or maybe they kissed. And then all three horses and riders agreed to ride together, and they set out to the right, back into the woods.

There were daisies and thistles everywhere, in all stages of bloom and pre-bloom and past-bloom. I was enchanted by a tiny crab spider whom I found enjoying the daisies as much as I do. Waving its little "hands" in the air, it looked like the conductor of an orchestra, albeit a very tiny one indeed; one playing a tune so small that nobody big's ears could hear.

And then I saw some fantastic birds. First, a scarlet tanager. When you see one, you will NEVER mistake its bright red color for anything else. But it was too far away and I wasn't fast enough to catch any shots. However, the NEXT bird to show up sat a while and gave me time for some photos. I wasn't sure at first what it was. It looked like an escapee from a slasher flick, with bright red (blood?!) all around its neck.

But of course, it was NOT blood, it was just the bird's markings. Since I don't think I've ever seen one of these birds before and I just might not see any more again, I've placed a photo of the rose-breasted grosbeak in the extras, where the bird-lovers may find it and cackle with enjoyment over its bright red breast. (Learn more about this bird here.)

There was one more treat for me on the way out, and that was several tiny butterflies wearing shades of orange, gray, and black. I was not familiar with the markings and upon arriving home, I looked it up. (For what is this camera but a tool for my endless investigations into natural history?) It turns out the tiny butterflies were American coppers. And I'm not sure I've seen many of those before, so . . . cool, very cool!

The woods and waters of my beautiful homelands in central Pennsylvania are enchanted places to me. And so the song to accompany this posting about the little things that delight me so is John Mellencamp's song, Small Paradise.