I doubt I'm alone in my love of barns, especially the weathered, gambrel roofed kind like my brother and I spent a lot of time in when we were youngsters. Barns are more than agricultural buildings, they’re iconic symbols of rural life, history, and rustic beauty. They tell stories of times past. Their weathered wood, faded paint, and sturdy frames evoke images of hard working farmers. A photograph of an old red barn against a field or pasture can transport viewers to a simpler time, sparking curiosity about the lives lived around it. These are a few I've found on our backroad rambles.
Sunday, June 29, 2025
Saturday, June 28, 2025
Northern Rough-winged Swallow
I discovered a new lifer yesterday. We took a drive down to the river access and found a flock of birds swarming a corn field with some perched on a wire. I couldn't tell what they were, but when I uploaded the pictures and checked my Merlin Bird App, I discovered a nice surprise.
National Foodie Day
Thursday, June 26, 2025
Monday, June 23, 2025
Nature
There’s something magical about wildflowers. Their vibrant colors and delicate petals seem to dance in the breeze, inviting all sorts of creatures to join the party. I call these beauties 'ditch flowers' because I take the pictures from the car along the back roads.
No identification for these beauties, but they sure added interest to the old fence.
The star of the show is a thistle flower hosting two incredible visitors: a hummingbird moth and a bumblebee. Thistles get a bad rap for being prickly, but they’re a magnet for pollinators. The hummingbird moth, with its rapid wingbeats, looks like a tiny bird hovering over the bloom. Sharing the thistle is a bee, its legs dusted with pollen as it dives into the flower’s spiky blooms. This photo captures a moment of harmony—two very different creatures working side by side, each doing their part in nature’s cycle.
Linking to: Nature Notes
Saturday, June 21, 2025
Critters
Mr. Blue Jay
White wolf at Wildlife Prairie Park
Happy Saturday!
Linking to: Saturday Critters
Jaws
2025 marks the 50th anniversary of Jaws, Steven Spielberg’s thriller that birthed the summer blockbuster and instilled a primal fear of the ocean. Released in 1975, the film’s story of a great white shark terrorizing the fictional Amity Island is remembered for its suspense, iconic score, and mechanical shark. Even half a century later, Jaws retains its ability to grip hearts with fear and spark imaginations.
I vividly recall the first time I saw Jaws. We lived in Sumpter County, Tennessee, in a 200-year-old home, once a girls’ dormitory, surrounded by fields and a long lane bordered by a rock wall. With no neighbors or streetlights, the nights were pitch-black. Family had come to visit from Illinois, and my sister-in-law and I decided to go to the movies. We didn’t want to bring the kids, so we told them we needed to visit the fabric store. Naturally, they refused to go, allowing us to sneak off without them.
The music alone was terrifying, and knowing the shark would claim several lives before the film’s end only heightened the fear. Driving home under a moonless sky, the movie’s tension lingered. Gooseflesh prickled our arms as we fumbled through the darkness to the back door, racing through the creaky, sprawling house to the living room, where our husbands relaxed beside a crackling fire. The warmth and light offered safety, but the shark’s shadow loomed in our minds long after.
To this day, I refuse to swim in the ocean.
Friday, June 20, 2025
Nature Friday
When we lived in ranch country Oklahoma, we enjoyed seeing horses. These are a couple of my favorite pictures from last spring.
Thursday, June 19, 2025
Ditch Flowers
Bandit
On a hot summer day, Gus and Izzy relaxed in the cool grass beneath an old oak tree, eyes closed, unaware Bandit watched them from high up in the neighbor’s elm. Feeling safe, the squirrel twitched his bushy tail, eyes locked on the freshly filled bird feeder brimming with goodies. It hung from a thin wire, swaying gently in the breeze, a tantalizing challenge for a critter with a notorious reputation.
Bandit scrambled down the tree head-first, his tiny claws gripping the bark. At the bottom, he checked the area for any danger lurking nearby, then scurried through the grass, pausing several times to make sure the dogs still slept peacefully. Seeing their eyes closed, he turned his attention to the feeder. The mean old bird lady purchased the one with a guard made to close when a heavy creature tried to steal food, specifically meant to thwart his kind. But Bandit was no ordinary squirrel. He often outsmarted traps, dodged hawks, and once he even swiped a peanut from a picnic table mid-lunch. To him, this feeder simply represented another easy mark.
He darted the last few feet to the pole, and in a blur of red fur, grasped hold of the shepherd’s hook and shinnied up to the feeder. Once underneath, he paused to calculate his next move.
Soon, Bandit had a plan. He made his move, startling a mama sparrow who grabbed a mouthful of deliciousness and flew off to feed her babies. Then, Bandit launched himself through the air, paws outstretched and landed with a loud thunk on the feeder’s roof. It spun wildly, sending the precious food flying. Two mourning doves scouring the ground for breakfast looked up and chirped a thank you as they dug into the surprise windfall.
Bandit clung onto the slick metal until all movement stopped. With a back paw wrapped securely around a wire to stay anchored, he dropped his body down along the side until his mouth dug into the wells filled with food.
Below, the birds chirped their outrage, but Bandit didn’t care. He’d won again … until … Gus opened one eye, then the other. When Gus realized they were sleeping on the job, he nudged Izzy awake. Like a shot, both dogs raced toward Bandit, barking their mean barks, lunging high in the air.
The cunning squirrel knew he’d outwitted the dogs again. He filled his mouth with one final gulp of lunch, then leapt from the feeder to the wooden utility shed behind him. From there, he soared to the safety of an overhanging limb. Perched high above, he turned, his bushy tail flicking with glee, and unleashed a torrent of chattering squeaks, mocking Gus and Izzy’s futile barks. His tiny paws gestured wildly, as if daring the dogs to climb after him, his beady brown eyes glinting with a smug triumph while the frustrated pups lunged helplessly below.
Sunday, June 1, 2025
No Critter Sunday
Since it's too nice to stay inside, we took a drive. Where? Nowhere in particular. Our mission? To drive new roads and get lost looking for birds and critters. What did we find?
Barges.
Not even one bird. Better luck next time.