The Insect Plain

Let us dig our furrow in the fields of the commonplace.

Jean-Henri Fabre

Eastern Tiger Swallowtail hanging from Milkweed

Signal flies courting on a slender leaf

Yellow-striped army worm crawling into the center of a fading coneflower

Despite its hardworking (and destructive) reputation, the carpenter ant takes a moment to walk on the soft petals of Queen Anne’s Lace

Even the biting stable fly can be still in the presence of a pretty flower

A Banded Longhorn Beetle climbs over the Wild Yarrow - is he as surprised as I am to see the little flecks of violet there

a tiny grasshopper hugs a blade of grass with his sticky feet

A dragonfly lands on the sharp dry leaves of grass

Bugs are not going to inherit the earth. They own it now. So we might as well make peace with the landlord.

Thomas Eisner

Abundance

Things are hopping in the field-

hopping and flying

and crawling around

worming through

buzzing about

chewing and biting

slithering

darting back and forth

eating

gathering pollen

mating

laying eggs

waiting…

so many

little

beautiful

intricate

terrifying things…

flourishing

in one little field.

If you follow me on Instagram (@random_rho), you may have noticed me turning my eye to the very small recently: drops of water, blades of grass, bees, flowers and insects. This was partly because I broke a telephoto lens and am still figuring out how to replace or repair it and partly because I’ve been trying to grow some vegetables this year and have realized how much insects can either help or hinder my efforts. So I picked up my macro lens, which can pick up very small details, and started working on my skill with closer, smaller subjects. There’s a lot to learn.

Coincidentally, in the bookbinding group I belong to, The Handmade Book Club, we were creating a Spider Binding, which is a sewn and taped binding with an unusual folding pattern for the pages that makes the finished book look a little spider-like… so I thought it seemed appropriate to fill mine with pictures of insects. Little did I know how easy it would be to find subjects. I mean, I know there are a lot of insects out there, but when you start really looking on purpose, it’s shocking how many you can see in just a few minutes. They’re everywhere. They don’t stick around posing for the camera, of course. Big grasshoppers and most moths and butterflies flit around so much that it’s stressful to chase after them. But I found that if I stayed in one place in the field long enough, they would come to me. Sometimes this meant they would land on me. Some of them bite, so I had to be careful. I don’t love all of these creatures. Some are scary and some eat plants and trees that I would prefer they didn’t, but I am still so amazed by the variety and abundance existing in such a small area. It will be an ongoing project this summer. At the end, I’ll share pictures of the books I’ve made (There will have to be more than one!).

Also, I am still developing a bookbinding workshop for late September. I’ll send a special announcement when I have the date and time arranged.

Thank you so much for being here! I will see you next month!

P.S. The blog title is loosely taken from a quote by Henry David Thoreau:

"Nature will bear the closest inspection. She invites us to lay our eye level with her smallest leaf, and take an insect view of its plain." ~ Henry David Thoreau

An Andrena Bee bathing itself in pollen on a wild chicory flower

Waking up to the Moon

The night walked down the sky with the moon in her hand.

Frederic Lawrence Knowles

02/23/24 Friday morning - the moon by itself

02/23/24 Friday Morning - the moon, in context, in the western sky

02/24/24 Saturday morning - golden light on her face

02/25/2024 Sunday morning, falling into the field

02/26/24 - Monday, between the branches of a tree

The earth, in fair and grateful exchange, pays back to the moon an illumination similar to that which it receives from her throughout nearly all the darkest gloom of the night.

Galileo Galilei

In a field in Texas,

in the early morning light -

I watch the moon descending.

Old friend of earth,

she bonds me to

all who see,

or have ever seen

her radiant face -

in our lineage

of wonder.

Visiting family in Texas this week. I woke up every morning to see the moon, to have a little quiet time outside to myself. I realized while I was standing out there in the field watching the moon descend in the west, and the sun rise in the east - that people have been doing this for thousands of years. It made me feel connected to a long line of dreamers…including you.

Thank you so much for being here. Love y’all.

…and while the moon was setting in the west - all week - the sun rose on the opposite side of the field.

Morning Ritual

When we do what we love, again and again, our life comes to hold the fragrance of that thing.

Wayne Muller

I wake in the dark of morning

and wherever in the world I am -

I walk outdoors.

Morning calls.

I feel the breath of it

on my skin,

hear its music,

the sound of waking birds,

filling my ears.

My mind is quiet.

Worry has not woken.

Only wonder walks with me,

as I watch the moon

departing,

and the first light of dawn

breaking over the fields;

into the trees.

No matter what the day

before has brought me -

No matter what dreams

haunted my sleep -

I wake in the dark of morning

and wherever in the world I am

I walk outdoors.

Morning calls.

Sunrise through barbed wire and a thorny vine

I hear the sound of birds singing above me

Texas sun blazing through the bare oak branches

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A starling sings from the top of the utility pole, silhouetted against the gradually lightening sky.

Every morning it’s a little different - a haze on the horizon softens the edges of light

A big buck staring across the field toward the rising sun

Above the trees in the big Texas sky

The sacred is not in heaven or far away. It is all around us, and small human rituals can connect us to its presence. And of course the greatest challenge (and gift) is to see the sacred in each other.

Alma Luz Villanueva

I had to make a road trip to Texas this week - it was quickly thrown together, and it could have felt rushed and stressful, except for my daily pre-dawn walk outdoors. There is always this quiet time before the sun rises, when I can be outside and walk in peace, before worries or plans begin to fill my mind. I go out in cold, in rain, in snow, in wind, in heat -whatever the weather. It is harder to do somedays than others, but I never regret doing it. It is a ritual that comforts me by making every place I go feel familiar. Wherever there is a morning, I am home.

Hope your week was beautiful too. See you next week.

The waning moon in the early morning hours, just before sunrise in Texas