Yesterday I noticed that the pods of this swamp milkweed plant had dried up and split open, and its seeds, suspended from silky parachutes, were being picked up by the wind and blown away to who knows where. I found myself thinking that summer is blowing away from my garden. Swamp milkweed (Asclepias incarnata), by the way, is a much prettier plant than the name would imply.
There are no big dramas going on in my garden, just the usual very small ones. The finches and cardinals spend their days chirping and fluttering as they fly back and forth between the feeder to the pine trees.
Sorry for the blurry picture, but I grabbed my camera fast as these finches seemed to be looking at the hamburgers I was preparing for supper.
I continue to work on learning to paint birds, and there is always a frightening moment when I sit down and am confronted with the blank page. But I also love all the appurtenances* of watercoloring, including the painted pencil box, the smooth paper, the sable-tipped brushes, and the paints themselves, like jewels.
*What a wonderfully Victorian word. It almost comes packed in its own valise. I had to look it up to make sure it means what I think it means: accessory objects.