Oh, the unfairness of it all

For someone who has always been a news junkie, I find myself these days paying less and less attention to news of the larger world. It's not that massive flooding in Alberta or the possibility that the US may blunder into yet another war lacks importance; it's just that the world around here is so beautiful right now that not spending lots of time appreciating it seems downright ungrateful. Unfair as the situation is, the universe is sending (probably) inordinate amounts of delight my way.

My nephew recently completed an informal (is there any other kind around here?) front-yard seating area for us, after which the long-suffering spouse and I refurbished the cedar chairs a friend made a number of years ago. The results please me. Given that the sun doesn't reach that part of the yard until well after 10:00, it has become a favorite breakfast area.

The unmistakable signs of my presence: plant catalogs and a coffee mug

The seating area is tucked behind the physocarpus hedge and is only a few feet away from what has become rather a large clump of penstemon "Red Rocks," which has become a favorite plant (until the next indestructible and gorgeous something reaches its peak). This native cultivar is also a favorite with the local bumblebees, who flock in their dozens to crawl inside the fat, bumble-sized tubes in search of what must be really great nectar. Some stubborn bees were even working the spent blossoms that had fallen to the ground. Unfortunately, none would cooperate in having their picture taken.

The plant, however, did cooperate, allowing me to get up close and personal with the patterns that are the pollinator equivalent of a flashing neon sign saying "Eat Here."  

And while I've not yet figured out how to tweak the shutter speed on my camera to capture grasses blowing in the breeze, the view from my chair of the grass garden-to-be is most satisfying. 

As if waving grasses and happy bumblebees weren't enough excitement for one morning, there was a goldfinch pair at the birdfeeder, making return trips to the crabapple tree. Is it possible that we will have baby goldfinches in the front yard? 

 Then, right in our own yard was heard the Woody-the-Woodpecker call of a pileated woodpecker. I only caught the briefest glimpse of our visitor winging its way out of a backyard oak, but knowing that these largest of West Virginia woodpeckers are here makes me happy.

Bursting from sheer joy is probably not possible, but the universe is definitely testing me these days.