Walking in silence
along a trail so familiar
my eyes were drawn
to bubbles at my feet.

Tiny bubbles, tinier bubbles, tiniest bubbles
formed random patterns
as they gave new life
to dying grasses.

Nearby, salmon-colored disks
sprouted upon
the mint-green crustose form
of candy lichen's granular base.

Meanwhile, crimson caps of British Soldiers
shouted for recognition
as they showed off
their branching structures. 

Upon a rotting tree
and backlit by the sun
glowed the irregularly lobed fruits
of Orange Jelly Spot. 

In another sunny spot, a Little Copper sought nectar
from a goldenrod still in bloom
while a Spotted Cucumber Beetle
photobombed the shot. 

I have to admit that I struggled with ID: 
Ruby, Cherry-faced, and Saffron-winged
since this dragonfly showed characteristics 
of each in the meadowhawk clan. 

Being present on this October afternoon
reminded me of another day
when I paced before a couple of shrubs
and watched the insect action.

I am honored and humbled to announce that that blog post was recently published
in The Observer,  a publication produced by the Maine Natural History Observatory. 
My friend and fellow master naturalist, Cheryl Ring, also has an article in this issue. 

The most humbling thing for me was an email I received from a reader who is also an avid naturalist. She commented that my ID of a butterfly at the end of the article, which I called Painted Lady, is actually American Lady. I now realize I need a new field guide because mine refers to it as American Painted Lady and I inadvertently dropped "American," while hers dropped "Painted" in the name. It's another lesson in why I need to wrap my brain around scientific names since common can cause confusion. I do appreciate that she took the time to read the article and write to me. 

That said, the best lesson of any day is to take time to be present and observe in nature. Even if it's only for a few minutes.