Honey Bee
Those are bugs flying in the air. All types and varieties
Sparrow in flight
The Barn Swallows left us in one huge swirling swoop
These just think they can fly. 🙂
To have one of these fly up in front of you is to startle you greatly (pheasant)
Not a feathered type of flying, but one that flies, never-the-less
And, yes, this really does fly!
ZOOM!
Your friend on a western Colorado farm,
Linda
(Stolen from Pinterest)
Out wandering around in the yard
My attention was drawn to a little honeybee
Loading herself down with pollen! Buzzing loudly like she was delighted and happy to be alive!
We should all experience such joy!
From my heart to your world,
Linda
Daily I watch the trees starting to turn…first a slight lightening of the leaves
The weight of their slumber is like a shooting light upon the lush green of the land.
The morning and evening air is more purple than rose, moving toward the light lavender of winter
Our grandchildren were here for the weekend—one more time before school starts (today).
Linkin, our oldest granddaughter loves to take photos (a wee bit like her grandmother, I think 🙂 )
Capturing this busy little bee covered in pollen
In the dancing light—she generously allowed me to share these with you. Thank you, Linky!
Summer…gradually it is vanishing…like a ghost flitting through a forgotten graveyard.
The birds on their migratory flights…tell us…Autumn is coming.
Stand with me to welcome in that glorious, wondrous, bright season between Summer and Winter
From my heart to your world,
Linda
The bees are very busy now…flying back to the hives, their bodies covered with pollen; the droning sound they make so much a part of the landscape one must pay attention to hear it.
The company of the plants are still soothing to the eyes and the soul
But the signs are there; spangling the edges, hurrying the plants along, pushing and a nudging–to set seeds — prepare for that long sleep called winter
The autumn winds will soon arrive, rustling across the plateau, through the canyons and bursting forth upon our mesa—flinging dry leaves across the land, stripping the trees bare
For now the rooted silence is a sort of balm to my spirit and to the earth
But the hint of fall is still there….a flicker out the corner of your eye, a tingle at the back your neck
Yellow leaves
Float quick and light, reflecting back to the wind, the earth and the sky the soon to be ghost of Summer.
From my world to your heart,
Linda
Life on a Colorado Farm 