It’s been a gray day and a quiet day–the right mix of ingredients for a perfect day. And except for saying goodby to my guy this morning, the only conversations I have had, too numerous to count, were with myself.

Well, maybe that’s not quite accurate, for I did talk to a squirrel, but in unusual squirrel manner, it stayed as still as could be and didn’t respond. Together, however, we eyed our domain.

It turned out we weren’t the only ones with big eyes that chose to hang out all day. Attached to the screen was a Mayfly subimago–the teenage form of the insect.

Mayflies are unique in that after the nymph emerges from the water as the subimago (that fishermen call a dun), they seek shelter before shedding their skin for the final transformation. I’m tickled that this dun chose our porch screen on which to rest.

Notice the cloudy wings–that’s a clue as to its age. It can take a few minutes to two days before a subimago transforms into a clear-winged imago or spinner, though the actual metamorphosis is quick. Will I see it? You know I’ll keep watching.

In the meantime, there was more to discover, including a sawfly insect case featuring the tiny hole where the insect chewed its way out.

As I looked about, I made one extremely exciting discovery–at least to me. Since 1986, I’ve stalked this land and today was the first time that I noticed the carnivorous Round-leaved Sundew growing here. Its leaves were filled to the brink with insect parts.

Perhaps that was why it looked so healthy and ready to flower. Expect to meet it again in future blog posts. (I warned you.)

I also spotted a few Swamp Roses offering a bright contrast to the day’s overcast reflection.

Featuring its own display of color was my favorite red pine–all pink-orange-gray hued in a jigsaw puzzle manner.

At the ends of its branches I found young cones growing larger and greener.

And old cones offering the perfect camouflage for a spider that had created a large network in which to trap its prey. I think it was of the garden cross variety, but without breaking the web, I couldn’t get too close, and I didn’t want to ruin all of its work.

Entangled in a bit of another web and dangling from the floor of the porch and beside the foundation was a skimmer dragonfly exuvia. Today wasn’t a flight day for dragonflies, and so I had to wonder–where do they hide when the sun doesn’t show its cheery face?

Perhaps in the buffer zone of vegetation that surrounds Propinquity, our point of view.

It only took us about a month longer than usual . . .

to make the long journey (7 miles) to the water’s edge.

But at last we’ve arrived.

Upta camp. The way life should be.