near Osceola

near Osceola

a nest in a cherry tree with

one broken blue egg

Late November, Cornelian cherries hang on the tree, attracting birds with their bright red color. I, too, am drawn to the clusters of vermilion fruit. And so I spot, through the branches bare of leaves, an old Robin's nest. In the bottom, nestled in the grass lining, one blue egg, pecked open, the remains of yolk lacquering the inside of the shell. Winter winds will blow the nest to the ground. Its crumbling contents -- mud, grass, egg shell, dried yolk -- will become mulch for the grass that will line another nest in the spring.

a bug with white wings

a bug white wings

treks around and around its 

little golden globe

Walking around the yard today, I commiserate with the bushes and trees suffering from the drought, shriveled dark gray leaves hanging from dark stems. One of the bright spots is a tall Cornelian Cherry (Cornus Mas) covered with sweet golden globes. I circumambulate the tree, admiring the clusters of fruit hanging from pink stems, some of them growing directly out of the tree trunk. I sample a few of the orbs, dry and not as sweet as yellow cherries, but still quite tasty. Because I'm looking so closely at the little gems, I spot a small insect with white wings crawling around on one of them. It is also circumambulating, walking around and around the same globe. The insect makes a complete rotation about once every three seconds. I have plenty of time to take a series of photographs, playing with different camera settings. It seems oblivious to my presence, just keeps traipsing round and round, sometimes on the equator of its little planet, sometimes at a diagonal. I start wondering how long it's been traveling, how long it will keep on going, why it doesn't stop, what it's searching for and not finding. Imagine, this little creature has been roaming a long ways for a long time and no one bigger than a bug would even know of its peregrinations if I hadn't been peering at the cherries. While I'm musing about the secret life of insects, I get so close with my camera that the lens touches the fruit and the bug falls off. Just like that, the insect's quest ends, and I feel just a little guilty for disrupting its fruitless journey.