August 3rd
The 215th Day of the Year
The backyard
overgrown with wild grape,
hollyhock, creeping Charlie,
is home to a thousand
white butterflies this August….
Ann Filemyr
Sunrise/set: 5:35/7:47
Day’s Length: 14 hours 12 minutes
Average High/Low: 85/64
Average Temperature: 75
Record High: 100 – 1964
Record Low: 40 – 1965
Weather
Highs in the 90s come 40 percent of the time on this date, 80s fifty percent, with 70s ten percent. Skies are clear to partly cloudy eight years in a decade, with rain passing through one year in three. Most night lows are in the 60s, just 20 percent reaching into the 50s.
Natural Calendar
Philosophers of time often refer to time in nature as “wild time,” time that has not been domesticated by human schedules. Now, when katydids and crickets are filling the nights with their rasping and shrill rhythms, one might enter the wilderness ahead by keeping pace with the measures of the insect metronomes.
Free from the society’s clock and calendar, the crickets and katydids create an audible structure in which the first purple blossoms of the tall ironweed open in the fields, and blackberries ripen. Grackles come together, flocking in anticipation of autumn.
Starlings spin in murmurations now above the bare wheat fields. On the East Coast, shorebirds move south, often stopping to rest on North Carolina’s outer banks. In the honeysuckles of the Midwest, adult robins teach their young migration calls.
Thistledown unravels completely to the cricketsongs and katydid-dids, and seedpods form on the trumpet creepers. Ragweed heads up as honewort and wood nettle, mallow, and tall meadow rue go to seed.. Patches of yellow appear on the cottonwoods. Black walnut leaves start to fall.
All across the country, summer’s second-last wave of wildflowers – the biennial gaura, Joe Pye weed, monkey flower, tall coneflower, white snakeroot, jumpseed, virgin’s bower, field thistle and Japanese knotweed – bloom in the open fields and along the fence rows.
Pods of the touch-me-not burst at the slightest movement. Dogbane seedpods swing in the wind. To the song of the crickets and katydids, grapes and pokeweed berries darken in the fields.
Daybook
1984: To the Swinging Bridge in the North Glen: First boneset and white snakeroot seen blooming. Hobblebush done flowering, most mint complete. More red Virginia creeper leaves falling to the grass. Damselflies and spitbugs continue their activity. An ambush bug and a new flower, water hemlock, discovered. Some touch-me-not-pods are bursting. White vervain, tall bellflower and lopseed holding on. Sweet clover has gone to brittle seeds.
1985: South Glen: Osage fruit seems full size now, the first fallen to the path. Small-flowered agrimony identified, and showy coneflower, and a very rare biennial gaura. Wild cucumbers throughout. Hickory nuts common on the ground.
1988: Now two weeks after the rains, the tall coneflowers have started to come in. Joe Pye weed and monkey flower are in full bloom near the Swinging Bridge. Lizard’s tail has turned into long, white seed heads. First oxeyes bloom, along with the ragweed. Large green seeds noticed on the waterleaf, Hydrophyllum canadense. Purslane and speedwell now cover the garden. Great blue heron seen on the way home.
1989: To northern Minnesota: Spotted knapweed found north of Madison, Wisconsin, same stage as in the mountains of eastern Pennsylvania thirty days before; Canadian thistle – which had gone to seed six weeks ago in Yellow Springs – was in full bloom near Eau Claire. Day lilies still fresh, and June’s yellow and white sweet clover were still open in Minneapolis; and the plantings of crown vetch along the freeways were strong (gone in Yellow Springs). Some winter wheat was still in the fields. Some fields of oats were still being harvested. Northern goldenrod, ahead of the southern variety of Greene County, was in full bloom. And milkweed pods were half formed, just like in Glen Helen. Many other common flowers from Ohio north of the Twin Cities: sow thistles, St. John’s wort, chicory, sundrops, great mullein, Joe Pye weed, bouncing bets, black-eyed Susans, Queen Anne’s lace, bird’s foot trefoil, parsnips, horseweed, common and great ragweed.
1992: A couple of weeks ago, I found a bumblebee motionless on its side in the middle of a red zinnia: yellow and black, soft, at rest in the flower at its peak. I wondered if he had been poisoned along his pollen rounds. I shook the flower lightly, but the bee didn’t move. I left him for dead; but the next morning he was gone. Today I found another silent bumblebee in another red zinnia. This time, I was more persistent; and when I stroked his wings, he recovered, got up clumsily and buzzed away. He and the other, I presume, had only been sleeping in the sun, exhausted, or drugged with nectar, collapsed in this bright, benign bed, indifferent to enemies and duty.
1993: A cool evening, fireflies blinking in the grass, not one flying.
1996: Fireflies nearly gone. First blue Asiatic dayflower blooms along the north wall. Day lilies almost gone about town. Cabbage butterflies in groups of three or four today. Yellow swallowtail, blue swallowtail seen.
1997: Return from a trip to Canton about 175 miles northeast of Yellow Springs to see Jeni: First goldenrod opening near Bolivar. Very early sundrops, a few purple ironweeds, a few wingstems. Joe Pye weed common, waves of blue chicory and Queen Anne’s lace. A few blue dayflowers seen. People at the bed and breakfast said they had been out picking blackberries. Locusts along the highway browning from leaf miners. Yellow patches in the scrub cottonwoods.
1999: Full robin valediction song in the front yard at nine this morning, loud singsong. Unlike the gentle, monotonous mating and nesting melodies, this was more earnest and more eloquent. And it lasted for minutes, seeming to be a prolonged, melodic cry, a wild lament for the end of summer. This afternoon, Louis the cat caught a snake that was in the process of eating an angleworm.
2000: The mallow holds surprisingly well at late bloom. A few red bergamot have blossomed out of time, the pond arrowhead is now in full bloom (after its first blossoms in July died back). One last Oriental lily holds in the north garden, the orange tiger Turk’s cap. And the small Stella d’oro lilies still bloom at the malls and along the south wall. August hostas, Sum and Substance, Royal Standard, starting to flower. The August Moon hostas are almost done. Fallen apples bothersome in the yard now. I keep stumbling over them. No frogs calling in the pond this year. But Suzy complains about the crows, so loud.
2001: Deep sense of Late Summer now at South Glen: patches of red Virginia creeper, some buckeye trees almost completely bare, some wood nettle leaves turning white. Joe Pye weed going to seed. Apples are lying all about the yard. Resurrection lilies still at full bloom throughout town.
2002: Yellow jacket seen eating a ladybug.
2005: Cricket hunters now.
2006: Snout-nosed butterflies swarming into southern Texas by the billions. The news says that “conditions are ideal” in Mexico for their breeding. This is a high period for all types of butterflies in that region. Here at home, more monarchs and swallowtails seen in the yard. Skippers continue to play throughout the mornings. Resurrection lilies noticed in full bloom along Don’s fence. Coming back from Beavercreek, Jeanie and I saw a large flock of starlings feeding in a suburban lawn. The first major flocking of Late Summer?
2007: A pair of catbirds has moved into the yard this week, flying back and forth with nesting materials. Their meow-like call heard for the first time during breakfast. In the alley, the winterberry euonymus is in full bloom, as are tall coneflowers and thin-leafed/small-flowered coneflowers. The first pokeweed berries noticed turning purple. Mateo’s black walnut tree is starting to turn, and other black walnuts along Limestone Street are losing their summer green, becoming dusky. Along the front sidewalk, jumpseed plants are open all the way. At home, four winter tomato seeds (Cobra variety) I planted for December have sprouted. Lilies are down to half a dozen plants with one bloom each, but the lush rose of Sharon, the large-flowered hibiscus and the second bloom of roses fill giant holes in the waning summer. Monarchs and swallowtails continue to visit.
2008: Yellowstone National Park: Returned to the Gibbon River and then drove north on the high, winding road toward the grand vistas near the northeast entrance. Saw blue star grass, wild geranium (Viscosissimum), fireweed, a magenta fringed gentian-like plant, something like the “monument plant” or Frasera speciosa, a tall, green mullein-like plant, a few Rubus idaeus, native red raspberry with tiny fruit just set, Phlox multiflora – a small, white ground cover phlox near the campsite, and Helianthella uniflora or showy goldeneye or H. quinqueneruis as the common roadside sunflower like plant.
2009: Cool morning, almost crisp, a feel of September in the air. In the new cherry tree, a mother sparrow was feeding two babies.
2010: North down the alley, I found a red mulberry trees still full of dark mulberries. Fewer tiger swallowtails came to the butterfly bushes today, only three seen at one time through the afternoon.
2011: Heat continues, cicadas, crickets, katydids fill the days and evenings. Two sparrow fledglings still being fed by their parents. Purple coneflowers are way past their best. Phlox, Joe Pye, a few last orange lilies, Endless Summer hydrangeas, late hostas, gooseneck, heliopsis, zinnias, rudbeckia, and dahlias hold color in the garden. On my walk after supper with Bella, I found an Osage fruit full size by the side of the road.
2012: At 5:00, strong robin singsong, distant cardinals, doves nearby, tree crickets dominant. Few butterflies today, one hummingbird moth, a few cabbage butterflies, one spicebush. Euonymus seen in full bloom along High Street. Robin vespers when I was out at 6:50. Light cooling breeze.
2013: Only four lily blossoms today. Male tiger swallowtails in the garden off and on throughout the day.
2014: Seven lily plants in bloom today – although the number of blossoms is more like a dozen. For the first time this summer, a long-bodied spider (long-jawed orb-weaver) has made an elaborate web above the pond. Into South Glen for just a little while: Rich, soft mounds of yellow touch-me-nots and what seems like acres of wood nettle, tall imposing, its flowers spread like miniature ferns. A patch of tall bell flowers, maybe half a dozen, the first real grouping I’ve seen of them here. Leafcup common. Beggarticks grown lush, waist high, wingstem open.
2015: Seven lilies in bloom. Sparrow feeding its fledgling on the feeder. Strong cardinal vespers at dusk.
2016: The giant red hibiscus near the north end of the porch blossomed over night. North east to Keuka Lake in upper New York state, an uneventful trip (white snakeroot, Queen Anne’s Lace) except for the first goldenrod seen in bloom east of Chautauqua. Fringed loosestrife and boneset flowering along the backroads by the lake.
2017: Walking home from downtown as a storm approached, wind pulling down yellow black walnut leaves.
2018: Two monarchs, one Eastern black, one male tiger swallowtail, several white-spotted skippers, cabbage whites in the zinnias this morning, sky cloudless, dew on the grass. The Stargazer lily continues in bloom, and the first flower of the Royal Standard hosta opened in the night, the same time as in 2000. First gray on the Joe Pye flowers. In the afternoon, a great spangled fritillary, a hackberry butterfly, a male tiger swallowtail, a monarch, several silver-spotted skippers and cabbage whites, this evening a giant swallowtail, the last butterfly of the day.
2019: Four ditch lily blossoms and two day lilies today, and the first of four violet resurrection lilies opened in the night.
2020: One day lily, one ditch lily, six naked lady lilies. Full moon today cooling Ohio and encouraging Hurricane Isaias to lean hard against the Carolinas.
Story Time
A narrative, much like a clock, is a kind of gadget for marking time, for trying to make sense of the endless metamorphoses that give shape to our lives.
Paul Heubener
Philosophers of natural time suggest that humans interpret events-in-nature through stories that make those events comprehensible.
But what kind of stories might they be talking about? Some kinds of narratives about events in nature are simply linear associations with other events in nature, combined with memory, to create story.
For example, this week, when I noticed fully-formed black walnuts fallen to the ground, I remembered that black walnut leaves are some of the first to fall. I could have stayed in the past, but then I thought about all kinds of falling leaves, and then the about winter to come. I told myself that future story without really trying. It came and went in an instant.
Lateral, phenological associations from certain events in nature to other concurrent events in nature can tell different stories and, at least for a little while, provide some relief from the future or the past.
Instead of moving the plot of the black walnut story ahead to winter or back, I could look about and focus on events in the present: the August flowers of the black-eyed Susans and the tall goldenrod and bright purple ironweed and tall coneflowers and the giant cup plants of the fields, the boneset and Joe Pye weed of the swamps, the leafcup and touch-me-nots in the deep woods.
Or I could meditate on the black walnut in itself, allowing essence, the thing in itself, to become a story of stasis. Or, I could call on some other cerebral space to remember autumn anniversaries or imagine fantastic events in nature, make stories that color recollection with desire, black walnut trees that tame the vicious side of humans and croon the land with love.
Human time is story time. We can tell time the way we saw it and see it and wish to see it.
The almanac of time hangs in the brain:
The seasons numbered, by the inward sun….
Dylan Thomas