Midsummer Nights
The first breath of cool air blew through late the other day. The pears are ripe, and the nights are exciting. Raccoons, skunks and possums travel together and feast underneath the tree.
I've been trying to get a picture. Early this morning I slipped outside with my flash set slow and waited. Somebody slunk up the trunk of the pear and made a chirping sound, warning somebody else, no doubt.
From my left I heard a soft growl near the deck. A skunk tail wiggled gracefully around the corner of the pergola and disappeared into the West yard.
Then another skunk stood on the little rock edge of the barbeque bed and ate a pear, ignoring me. I got this picture. I think the white spot is his eye reflecting the flash.
Skunks can't climb, but luckily for them, the squirrels pick pears in the day, eat a bite or two, and throw the pears on the ground.
No armadillo today, but he’s been out there, along with the screech owl and, in the far distance, coyotes.
You see a lot of Bradford pears around here. They are perfectly shaped (like pears!), bloom in the spring and turn beautiful colors in the fall. They don't have fruit, however.
Once again, the world bewilders me. Why would you want a fruitless pear tree? I love the little crunchy green pears. So does Weegie - eats one every day.
They are not much like the soft wet pears you buy in stores. Maybe other people don't think they're good enough to eat. Or maybe they just don't want six little night animals hanging out in their yard every night in the late weeks of summer.