As I sit here listening to the undelightful sound of an artesian well being drilled on a neighboring property, I have to wonder how deep they must go. After all, we’re beside a lake.

To distract myself, I wandered about our lot, wondering what I might see. I’d also wandered at Holt Pond early this morning, sharing the pitcher plants and some other great finds with K. So . . . here’s a little of this and a little of that.

Morning has broken . . . on the Muddy River.

And the quaking bog at Holt Pond.

Home of the pitcher plants and the reason for our visit.

A new find for me: Horned bladderwort. It’s growing at the edge of the pond. The stalk is erect and there are no apparent leaves–because . . .  “tiny leaves grow beneath the soil” according to Newcomb’s Wildflower Guide.

Check out this Indian Pipe. Usually we see the ghostly white version, but Newcomb states that occasionally the plants are pink. This is one of those occasions. And these flowers have been fertilized–therefore, they are standing upright, rather than nodding.

On my way home, I stopped by the side of the road to admire the staghorn sumac. The cluster of upright flowers reminded me a wee bit of the sundews we’d been admiring at Holt Pond. Color and hairiness–similar but entirely different.

Back at camp and by the water’s edge, a single swamp rose bush.

The berries of a shadbush dangle like ornaments.

Under a porch floorboard, the exoskeleton of a dragonfly.

Perhaps it previously protected this one–a blue dasher.

And finally, a field thistle on our neighbor’s side of the driveway. Such a suit of armor.

There’s more, but that was enough this and that for the day. And besides, the well folks are finally departing. Let there be silence.