Early yesterday, with dark clouds above and grass drizzle-wet, I set off for the cutline.
It did not disappoint. There, in an opening between the trees, I found the Indian paintbrush. Discovered by accident last summer, this wild garden glows with colour.
Such places fill me with joy. Living things. Unhindered by lawn mowers or pesticides. Corners where we haven’t intruded. Where we view these as neighbours, not weeds.
The air is damp. Insects still doze. I find wee harlequin bugs on several flowers. Not a sound from beyond the woods.
Don’t get much better than this.
Indian paintbrush Castilleja spp.
Wee harlequin bug Cosmopepla bimaculata