Last year, the day before my partner went into labor, we walked a forest trail with tall groves of cinnamon and interrupted ferns. This year we wanted to recreate that hike with the baby in tow, which we did last week. It was even more beautiful than I remembered. If there were a color called royal green, it would be found in the late spring woods. Pools contemplated still reflections. Unfortunately they also had hosted the mosquito larvae that turned into the hordes of adults now hovering around us, waiting for any chance to alight on exposed flesh. We belatedly remembered that last year had been a dry spring, and after ten minutes one of us said, “That was nice. Shall we go home now?”

If we had less summer invertebrates, there would be less breeding birds. There are plenty which don’t want my blood to fuel their reproduction, which I appreciate. I like to watch little native bees with pollen panniers and spiders lurking in grass caves. Fireflies add a touch of elegance to the darkening woods, especially if I don’t think of Disney’s Magic Kingdom. A few days ago I played paparazzi to the flashier side of the arthropod world, butterflies and damselflies sunning themselves along the driveway.


Banded purple


Ebony jewelwing


Mourning cloak