Tuesday, May 21, 2013

Blackpoll woods and Dewdrops…

It was supposed to be another good migration day in our area according to Tom Auer’s blog.

Jeff and I set out early for Bluff Point to see what migrants may have come thru.

We stopped at the first pull off as we did the week before when we experienced an amazing morning of warbler filled trees.
This time we did not see warblers decorating the trees…

Instead, the woods was full of Blackpoll Warbler song.


It was fun to catch these long distance warblers in migration!Bluff Point_009

It was a foggy morning..and spider webs were highlighted with dew..

Bluff Point_007There were many cap like web structures..

Bluff Point_013With these spiders inside..

Does anyone know what type of spider this is?

Bluff Point_010I love what foggy mornings bring..


and drops..

Bluff Point_016We followed the path to the inlet..

So foggy I could barely see the opposite shore..

Bluff Point_018Jeff was chilly and ran back the quarter mile to the car to grab his sweatshirt..

In the meantime I walked a small path that the fisherman take ..

Bluff Point_019Water on either side..

And fog..

Bluff Point_021A great combination..


Dew Drops..

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by nexusnovel

Bluff Point_029

Honey’d with clear, golden and lavender,

Spring’s blossom bringing forth new beginning,

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Dawn awakens and glistens

In luminous flux; Oh artist of birth

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Your Universal light of incandescent glow

Dances within my body, mind

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Heart and Soul; Oh auspicious dewdrop,

Like a pendant of crystal chandelier,

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Shaped like a tiny pear…

I see you at play upon flowers of spring,

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I behold you everywhere, even in morning’s

Drop of dew

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Oh artist Divine, absolute in purity and Perfection

Behold me in your infinitely vast

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Hear my heart’s deepest desire,

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And answer me with your

Song of Love

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I turned and followed the path back to the parking lot..

Bluff Point_065Stopping for more Dew filled delights..

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  John Clare [More
Titles by Clare]

The dewdrops on every blade of grass are so much like silver drops that I am obliged to stoop down as I walk to see if they are pearls, and those sprinkled on the ivy-woven beds of primroses underneath the hazels, whitethorns and maples are so like gold beads that I stooped down to feel if they were hard, but they melted from my finger.

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And where the dew lies on the primrose, the violet and whitethorn leaves they are emerald and beryl, yet nothing more than the dews of the morning on the budding leaves; nay, the road grasses are covered with gold and silver beads, and the further we go the brighter they seem to shine, like solid gold and silver.

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It is nothing more than the sun's light and shade upon them in the dewy morning; every thorn-point and every bramble-spear has its trembling ornament: till the wind gets a little brisker, and then all is shaken off, and all the shining jewelry passes away into a common spring morning full of budding leaves, primroses, violets, vernal speedwell, bluebell and orchis, and commonplace objects.

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A beautiful Gem filled morning.

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