As Summer Wanes

Midsummer to late summer light ranges from golden to bleak to laser sharp depending on the state of the atmosphere. This year the vagaries of climate have plagued us all. The summer green should be verdant and vibrant, yet this year all around we catch glimpses of autumnal decay. Nature’s fangs and claws are evident in the battered wings of butterflies and mysterious clumps of fur in the compost pit. Trees look sadly at the brown rot consuming their leaves.

The tomatoes are done, and the blueberries refuse to ripen. The bitter melons, hardy warriors, send their vines in profusion across the gaps between house and tree.

Many species have reached adulthood by this time, with middle-aged stoutness evident in the mature bodies of sun-bathing skinks, whose official name, Plestiodon, sends me back to time out of mind. The butterflies and moths are looking for a quite place to end their time, and come to light on potted plants, still-life targets moving inevitably toward death.

Grasshoppers, however, are in their prime, and their mid-day congregation in dappled light makes the relentless heat seem almost enjoyable. Swallowtails pause for a rest before sunset, carrying the essence of the other world. Perhaps they remember the time in ancient Japan when they were honored as Deities in the Land of Eternal Life.

Yellow cabbage butterfly with tattered wings

Geometridae moth with a long Japanese name: Usubamisujiedashaku

Underside of the above

Another one at the end of its days

The skippers have arrived at last!

Siesta for grasshoppers

A male five-striped skink sunbathing after a storm

Evening visit of the swallowtail

The lovely underside of a spangle

Pollinating the bitter melon blossoms

A few years ago, insects were so scarce that I had to pollinate the bitter melon flowers by hand. Only some took, and the harvest was meager. Fritillary and Skipper butterflies moved up from the south to keep us in bitter melons over the next season. But this year, even though I haven't seen any Skippers yet and the Fritillary larvae are still eating the violet leaves, everyone else is pitching in: Swallowtail butterflies, three kinds of bees, several kinds of fly, and this year's star presence in the garden, the Pale blue grass butterfly.

Imagine trying to nap in sun-drenched yellow.

Summer's strange veil

Agelena limbata grows out of its skin

The largest kiwi fruits the garden has seen

Parent Brown-eared bulbul oversees the hunting grounds

Bright harvest

There is a strange juxtaposition in the midsummer garden which at this time of year becomes a nursery for sparrow and bulbul fledglings while they learn to hunt and forage on their own. They share time space with those that shed their skins to grow anew, and those that transform into winged creatures behind the delicate veil of the chrysalis wall. Behind the staid and solid green of midlife leaves the cicada sings of cooler hours in which to love. Twining between harsh sun and viscous window pane, the bitter melon's tropical green curtain makes us dream of everlasting renewal. In summers as humid as this one, death is always present in the decaying brown of leaves overcome by bacteria, insects and rot. The cicada's discarded carapace is a monument to perfect engineering and luck. Tethered properly to the right object, it supports the newly emerged life form whose wings must dry before flight is possible. Untethered at the wrong moment, the fragile being plummets to the earth, clinging to its carapace all the way down. All is determined in the random act of choosing where and how to get one's hooks in, after having spent most of one's life in the dark, suckled by tree roots. How amazing is it then, when a smaller cousin sets up its own transformation to festoon the glazed and miraculous window of what was once a nymph's eye?

Some kind of Satyrinae, perhaps a  rare False Ringlet or Brown. My first sighting, and it stayed quiet for the photo session.

The artistry of Uloborus varians, a most intriguing spider.

Pale Grass Blue (Pseudozizeeria maha) in its dry season colors, with a beat-up wing.

Someone is still inside the little white form clinging to the cicada's old carapace.

And now that someone is free, leaving behind another empty skin.

Pale Grass Blue (Pseudozizeeria maha) in its wet season colors. Taken on the same day as the one above, thus speaking volumes about the present climate.

Living curtain of bitter melon vines.

A bitter melon, so delicious!

End of the Rainy Season

Today the rainy season officially ended for the Kanto plain area. I had my doubts about the announcement because for most of the day it was cloudy and murky, typical rainy season weather. Recently, with the rapid climate changes all over the globe, the seasons seem to intervene with one another. But this evening there was no doubt: A thunderstorm, complete with a short blackout, sheets of silvery water falling out of the sky, and a rainbow! Followed by brilliant white clouds floating in pristine blue, and the sun strong enough to raise the vapor level to intensities that make you wish you had gills.
Anyway, I stood in the rain, and was cool for a few blessed moments.