The roadside is engulfed with sweetpeas entwining the bank, mauve or pink or white touched with pinks all abloom.
The hop clover is all radiant sunshine yellow, but if you come close, some blooms are flaming orange. I'm not sure whether it's that they have withered, or are just budding, or perhaps are sports.
The road winds through the woods, all deeply green, and shadowing the way, and here and there great stands of tiger lily are pure orange.
A bird flies over the path. Though its head is solid black, the fiery orange patches are too large for it to be anything but an oriole. This place has seen other oriels in odd patterns too.
The clouds are thick and gray -- with a peach-like shade about the edges touched with sunset -- and a gap in the middle showing a cloud beyond, pure blazing white. Then lightning forks in it, urging an end to the walk.
A hawk sits on the apple tree before the window in the rain. Its belly all white with speckles, and its feathers ruffled as it glares ahead.
The bumblebees abound. The coneflowers all abloom in their intense pink often have two or even three bumblebees at once. And the bee balm also gets visitors.
A falcon flits just over the head of the parishioners in the parish parking lot. Its dark eye takes us in, but it does not pause in its flight.
The lightning in the dark clouds is more like a veil fluttering than a stab, or even a sheet, of white fire. Later, as the storm progresses (but does not rain), it turns to the stabs, forking over the clouds.
How heavily it rained. On the cliff-faces to the highway's side, there are broad waterfalls in full spate.
On the roadside, a clump of brown, resembling a rabbit, resolves into a dead branch with dried leaves. The next bit of brown, however, is a fawn nibbling at wildflowers, still with its white spots.
A cat walks by the woods. It is creamy white, except for a few markings on its head, lopsided on its ears, and its tail, brown and gray, with rings, and the cat looks tail-less because the tail blends into the woods.
So hazy it is that not only are many hills invisible, or indistinct, by daylight, the moon, though rising high by sunset, is still a rosy pink, and in full night, when it reaches zenith, it is the red as if it were being looked through a clear but cherry-red liquid (like the syrup maraschino cherries come in).
The stream is brown, as if it were in full flood, and bearing off the earth, but if you are directly parallel and so can look in without glancing sunlight, you can see down to the bottom, with all the rocks and earth in full detail through the water, and their muddy color very clear.
Thick clouds sweep over, very dark, with only a few splatters of rain, but a rainbow springs up in the sky. A double rainbow, arching from one side to the other. The ends are the very pure colors, but the part in the middle of the main arch seems to stutter and repeat colors. It lasts for many minutes, and half an hour later it's a single rainbow and only part of an arch but still there.
In the delphiniums, blooming yellow and orange, a hummingbird flits. It flits away too soon to be absolutely certain that it is not a hummingbird moth, but the colors have the sheen.
It flies through the evening, black but perhaps backlit. Still, careful watching can make out the wings have no feathers and so it is a bat.