Storms Finally Passing...I Think
It's been non stop rain and drizzle since Saturday. We've been in a drought for awhile and all the rain that hit southern Minnesota this past weekend really blind sided some of the towns near the Mississippi River. Going from no rain to all of a sudden 18 inches over night was just too much for the ground to take. We are fortunate that we don't live anywhere near the flooding that has been reported, but I can't help but feel bad for the families who lost their homes or the man who so bravely got his wife and her friend up in a tree safely and then lost his fight with the rising waters and was swept away.
There was finally a pause in the rain today. Every time it looked like the sky would clear, another storm would pop up out of nothing. Tonight, as another thunderstorm formed overhead, the clouds cast a yellowish glow and it looked like the world was lit with an incandescent bulb (above photo).
When I passed the bees today, the Olga bees were lined up outside the hive, almost looked like a swarm. (It wasn't, but if it was, I'm not messing with it, I learned my lesson from the Kitty hive). But if you watched the bee traffic, it was a very steady stream of bees leaving and bees returning. They haven't really been able to forage with all the rain, so I imagine that they felt the urge to go out and gather massive amounts of pollen and just get out of the dark box crowded with millions of bees (I just want to bee alone, alright!). The bee equivalent of cabin fever.
I love living in the northern states. Last week, when I was driving away from the hives at dusk, all the surrounding farm fields had low clouds of mist forming, they looked like hoards of ghosts meandering through the fields. You can drive down the roads with the windows open, listening to the deafening katydids, crickets, and who knows what other types of buzzy singing insects and take in the fragrant air that is very cool and heavy with moisture. You can smell wet grass, decaying leaves, and that pungent black walnut aroma. Love it.
Tonight, I tried to find the mists before another thunderstorm broke out. I was thinking about how the summer songs have changed from warblers, vireos, grosbeaks to insects buzzing. Then I heard a buzzy peent overhead. A small flock of 40 nighthawks (above photo) were kiting insects in front of the coming storm, soon on their way south.
In a few months, the woods and the fields will be silent save for the occasional crow and chickadee. I can't think about that now, I'll go crazy if I do. I'll think about that tomorrow.
FYI - really cool warbler post and bee blogging is on the horizon.
There was finally a pause in the rain today. Every time it looked like the sky would clear, another storm would pop up out of nothing. Tonight, as another thunderstorm formed overhead, the clouds cast a yellowish glow and it looked like the world was lit with an incandescent bulb (above photo).When I passed the bees today, the Olga bees were lined up outside the hive, almost looked like a swarm. (It wasn't, but if it was, I'm not messing with it, I learned my lesson from the Kitty hive). But if you watched the bee traffic, it was a very steady stream of bees leaving and bees returning. They haven't really been able to forage with all the rain, so I imagine that they felt the urge to go out and gather massive amounts of pollen and just get out of the dark box crowded with millions of bees (I just want to bee alone, alright!). The bee equivalent of cabin fever.
I love living in the northern states. Last week, when I was driving away from the hives at dusk, all the surrounding farm fields had low clouds of mist forming, they looked like hoards of ghosts meandering through the fields. You can drive down the roads with the windows open, listening to the deafening katydids, crickets, and who knows what other types of buzzy singing insects and take in the fragrant air that is very cool and heavy with moisture. You can smell wet grass, decaying leaves, and that pungent black walnut aroma. Love it.
Tonight, I tried to find the mists before another thunderstorm broke out. I was thinking about how the summer songs have changed from warblers, vireos, grosbeaks to insects buzzing. Then I heard a buzzy peent overhead. A small flock of 40 nighthawks (above photo) were kiting insects in front of the coming storm, soon on their way south.In a few months, the woods and the fields will be silent save for the occasional crow and chickadee. I can't think about that now, I'll go crazy if I do. I'll think about that tomorrow.
FYI - really cool warbler post and bee blogging is on the horizon.
posted by birdchick at 10:21 PM
7 Comments:
I think the rain that you've been havng is making it's way towards here, across the lakes and to the east.
We can use it, our world is brown and toasty.
The fields look so lush and alive in your photos.
It does feel different these days though, like the end of something and the beginning of something else, as is always the case.
Your description of the mists and the trees is so perfect. I love it too! The north rocks.
Wow, I would never have thought you'd see a nighthawk (much less a flock) perched on a wire. Will look more carefully now!
This is unrelated to your post, but I thought you might want to post this link to spread the word around: http://action.defenders.org/site/R?i=fEiyYqSaaI1ZsedNRMk6Hw..
It's a petition to help protect the Northern Spotted Owl that I received in my email.
Wow, that nighthawk is absoutely beautiful! Great shot!
Kathy
Lovely post and pictures...that slightly melancholy feel that fall always brings.
I live in the north too, and I TOO don't want to think what our fields and woods will be like in a few months...carpe diem..live for the day!
PS I love your photos and blog..
I also adore rabbits and have really enjoyed all the disapproving ones ...lol
Bee alone? That was bad!
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