When the Swamp Milkweed plants bloom, I regularly check the blossoms for Monarch Butterflies. On this day, I found Green June Beetles instead.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. Green June Beetles emerge to mate in late July and August. This one was feasting on the nectar of the lovely mauve flowers of the Swamp Milkweed.
The chunky one-inch-long beetles of the southeastern U.S. are commonly seen flying low to the ground in yards in mid to late summer.
My only question is: if they hatch in late July, why are they called Green June Beetles?
A Green June Beetle on Swamp Milkweed blossoms. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
You never know what you’ll happen upon in nature. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
We live in a stress-filled world with lots of artificial noise, annoying distractions, societal expectations, and short deadlines. There are ways to escape the madness, even if only temporarily.
In my almost 79 years of living, I have made a habit of escaping much of life’s static by getting away. Even in retirement, I feel life’s stresses.
Hiking and bird watching are two excellent ways to forget all of the activities that clutter our lives, especially with 21st-century technology constantly hounding us. Combining exercise with enjoyment helps strengthen my body, foster mindfulness, and recharge my spirit for living.
I add in a third complementary hobby: photography. Snapshots of my outings document where I have been and what I have seen. Then I can share the treasures I have found with others, which only enhances the joy of the experience.
Poet Mary Oliver taught us to “pay attention, be astonished, tell about it.” During my treks, I put this poetic advice into practice. I marvel at a pair of Swallow-tailed Kites foraging for insects over a recently mown field. Walking through a tunnel of blooming Mountain Laurel along the Appalachian Trail stops me in my tracks.
A Swallowtail Kite. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
A blogger friend of mine who frequents Georgia’s Okefenokee National Wildlife Refuge does so for solitude and renewal by kayaking among alligators. Finding renewal in nature is a personal preference. Making the effort to enjoy the outdoors is what counts.
Recent studies have proven what author Wendell Berry has always known: “For a time, I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.” One study “found evidence for associations between nature exposure and improved cognitive function, brain activity, blood pressure, mental health, physical activity, and sleep.” Another research paper focused on the health benefits of nature in urban areas.
These studies show that everyone, everywhere, should commune with nature. It can be a morning walk in your neighborhood or a long-distance bicycle ride. I walk frequently in our suburban neighborhood in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley. The melodious bird calls and the fragrance from well-attended flower gardens combine to energize my steps.
I find Berry’s grace under the shady canopy of towering trees, among stands of colorful wildflowers, while viewing wildlife big and small, and in forever mountaintop vistas. So, whether with friends or solo, I enjoy nature in her many forms. Being retired allows me to do so as time allows.
I keep a steady pace until I spot something pretty or intriguing. I pull out my smartphone and photograph it. That documents the time and place to reinforce my memory. It might be another opportunity to share it as well.
I belong to a local bird club, so I can follow up on any rare bird alerts as I can. I don’t always find the bird in question, but I’m not disappointed. I often encounter other birders in search of the same species. We commiserate and share other birding adventures we’ve had. New friends are made in the process.
I’ll occasionally join a scheduled bird hike in a city park or even in Shenandoah National Park 40 miles away. Having multiple pairs of eyes scanning the sky and peering through thickets and woodlots enhances all our chances of seeing a special bird.
I have the privilege of mentoring a high school junior from our church. He also happens to enjoy bird watching, so we occasionally venture out with small groups or another mentor-mentee pair to enjoy the hiking, camaraderie, and all we encounter along the way.
Impatient with our septuagenarian pace, the trustworthy teens forge ahead, exploring on their own. Once, they encountered an unfamiliar rock scramble and rushed back to us, realizing they had missed the turn.
I am most free to enjoy the flora and fauna when I go alone. I travel at my own leisure, stopping to photograph bees and butterflies on flowers, unusual rock formations, and birds if I can spot them in the dense foliage.
After hiking to a majestic overlook in the Blue Ridge Mountains, I rest a spell, partly to regain my energy and catch my breath, but mostly to inhale the view. The quiet has its rewards: a doe grazing with her fawn, Red-tailed Hawks and Turkey Vultures soaring on thermals with puffy white clouds sailing high overhead in the cerulean sky, a Timber Rattlesnake soaking in the sun on a limestone outcropping.
Hydration and nourishment with water and snacks are essential, especially when hiking at higher altitudes. With binoculars hanging from my neck and a camera slung on my shoulder, a pair of walking sticks keeps me steady even on the rockiest of terrain.
Spending time in nature provides many benefits, especially for seniors as we age. It helps improve cardiovascular health and sleep, and reduce inflammation in the body, according to this study by the Elder Care Alliance. My family physician tells me “to keep moving,” so I do.
The essence of being in nature with the wild things gives me all the peace I need. With no signal in remote areas, the cellphone never interrupts.
We often hear about the harbingers of spring, but seldom do we speak of those of autumn. Yet, they certainly exist.
If we look closely, the signs have begun to appear. The vegetation and animals are already giving us hints of what is to come in fall. After all, the Autumnal Equinox is only six weeks away.
Fall migration has already begun for some of our aviary friends. Those with bold spring mating colors now appear much duller and are harder to identify.
If we take time to notice, some leaves of deciduous trees and climbing vines have already begun to change. Maybe the hot, dry summer we had here in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley had something to do with the early signs of fall.
Whatever the reasons, the gradual transition helps to accept that autumn is just around the corner.
Some leaves on a Virginia Creeper vine have already turned red. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
With the sun behind this bird, it may be hard to discern the species. But birders use other clues to identify birds when conditions prevent seeing the bird directly.
When I cleared a hill on a gravel road, I didn’t spot this Eastern Kingbird right away. I stopped my vehicle as smoothly as I could without skidding on the loose gravel.
First, I noted the bird’s size. Secondly, its posture was distinctive for an Eastern Kingbird. In addition, the habitat was right for this species. Eastern Kingbirds love open, weedy fields, which were behind the bird, with trees nearby, which were on the east side of the road.
The white feathers at the tip of its tail were another field mark. When you are birding, you have to take the shots you are given and be happy with that.
As a photographer, I was happy with the composition of this shot, despite the strong backlighting.
I snapped this photo of a Red-tailed Hawk soaring on a thermal over a fallow farm field. I never saw the Turkey Vulture that photobombed the image until I checked the photo on the camera’s back screen.
Both bird species are common in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley, one of the leading agricultural counties in the Commonwealth. Most farms supplement their grain and hay crops with milk cows, beef steers, and especially poultry barns.
Consequently, there are plenty of food supplies for both the hawks and the vultures, with dead carcasses sometimes hauled to the back 40 acres for disposal. Deer/vehicle collisions are also common, providing more opportunities for nature’s natural scavengers to feast to the full.
Two birds with one shot. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
The angle of the seemingly interconnected wings of the two birds also intrigued me. Of course, with the Red-tailed Hawk higher than the sailing vulture, the large black bird was no threat to the Buteo jamaicensis.
It’s hard to believe, but today is the first day of August.
August is notorious for hot, hazy, humid days, better known as the Dog Days of Summer. But as this photo from August 2024 shows, when a cold front pushed through, it used the energy from the heat and humidity, along with the dew point, to create some pop-up thunderstorms.
The cooling after the storms is a welcome relief, but given August’s reputation, the pleasant weather seldom lasts.
Of course, August offers more than uncertain weather. County and state fairs are held. Back-to-school sales entice parents and their offspring to purchase new clothing for their students, who will soon begin a new school year.
Farmers are literally making hay and hoping for rain to quench their grain crops. Golden, hazy sunsets will close out productive August days.
And for the record, August officially begins the fall bird migration, with some birds already molting into their non-breeding plumage.
So, welcome to August, and embrace all that she has to offer.
An August thunderstorm formed over Shenandoah National Park. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
The resurrected Rising Sun Redbud tree. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
A year ago, my wife and I came home to find our lovely Rising Sun Redbud had been badly damaged in a severe thunderstorm. It had been perfectly shaped with a beautiful canopy of multicolored leaves.
After the storm’s strong winds had their way with the poor tree, it looked disheveled. It had to be significantly trimmed back, leaving only the back half of the canopy.
How the tree looked late last summer after the trimming. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh 2025
I wasn’t sure what would happen this year, especially after the unusually harsh winter we had, followed by a 22-degree freeze in late May. That hard freeze withered all of the sprouted leaves. I wasn’t very hopeful.
Nature, in her impulsively resilient renewal, proved me wrong. Today, the tree has produced a new crop of leaves that are as pretty and robust as the ones before the killing frost.
Life’s storms come and go. Nature rebounds despite our fears and doubts. Our resurrected Rising Sun Redbud is proof.
The new canopy of the Rising Sun Redbud tree. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
About this time every summer, a marvel of nature appears in our neighbor’s backyard. A fairy circle or ring appears almost overnight.
The appearance of a lone mushroom is the first sign of the false parasol fungi. By evening, several others have formed an arch. The white caps contrast nicely with the vibrant grass.
Though the fungi seem to be separate ones popping up, they are actually all connected underground. The arch or ring grows as the fungus seeks food underneath the exposed mushrooms, which are not edible.
The fairy rings are naturally occurring and, according to folklore and myth, can bring either good or bad luck. They are also called elf circles or pixie rings. By the time the neighbors mowed their yard, the fungi were the size of dinner plates.
Fairy rings mostly appear in grassy areas, but are also seen in forests. Wherever they show up and in what formation, the fungus is a sight to see.
I grew up in the 1950s and 60s, when a lot was happening in the U.S. and global society. Much of the action mirrored today’s unfortunate interactions.
The one burgeoning element in my adolescent years was the development of shopping malls. “Build it, and they will come” was certainly true in those turbulent years of Vietnam and the civil rights movement.
People flocked to the malls. If they wanted to, shoppers could park in one spot in the massive parking lots that surrounded the indoor malls and shop to their heart’s content. They could even have lunch in the food court.
Of course, those massive malls proved to be the doom of city downtowns all across the country. Mom-and-pop stores that provided goods and services for generations eventually closed. Storefronts shuttered, and city centers decayed.
But look at many of those malls today. Like the urban stores, the malls have also closed one by one. Big box stores and Amazon have been their demise.
The efficiency of technology, which we all use, has been the death knell of in-person shopping for the most part. It’s also stifled human interactions, if only in casual passing. If the malls remain open, they often have been converted to government service centers with a few scattered retail stores.
Imagine my surprise when our friend and host where we stayed on the Maine Coast announced that we were going to “the mall.” We loaded the SUV with the garbage and recycling, and drove to the Georgetown Island, Maine, recycling center.
So, how can a recycling center be a mall? Leave it to Mainers. “The mall” stands in the far corner of the property. Residents bring items that are still usable and place them among the other items on the shelves that already hold tea sets, paintings, toys, and decorations.
Used clothing is hung on racks just like a thrift store. Bigger items like furniture, suitcases, and fans sat on the concrete. There was even a used composting toilet. So, if it’s still usable, Mainers pass it on for others who might want it.
The best part of this mall: Everything is free. If you like it and can use it, it’s yours, no questions asked. After all, it is a recycling center.
Though we were in Maine, we felt the oppressive summer heat like the rest of the U.S. and even globally. We even had a day of smoky skies from the wildfires. The only reprieve was our host’s cabin, where the ocean breezes kept the temperatures tolerable.
Nevertheless, we wanted to see other attractions, so we headed out despite the heat. Unfortunately, we chose the warmest day of our stay to venture to the Coastal Maine Botanical Garden in Boothbay, Maine.
We toured the many lovely gardens, but not all of them. Elder folks that we are, we wilted under the heat and humidity. We sought shelter at lunchtime in the air conditioning of the garden’s cafe.
We continued our walking tour until we found a shuttle cart that drove us into the far reaches of the popular destination. I would have loved to walk those shaded paths down to the ocean, but I wasn’t sure I would make it back. So, our brief riding tour completed our time there.
A short drive south brought us to the tourist-popular Boothbay Harbor. Given the crowd, I was fortunate to find a parking spot. We walked along the harbor’s edges where we could until we found an ice cream shop. It was the pause we all needed.
I had spied a large white church across the bay, so we drove around the bay so I could photograph the church and the bay from that location. An engaging dock worker permitted me to enter the private dock to take my photos, but only at my own risk. With a smile, he said he would rescue me if I fell in. I didn’t.
In the evening, my wife and I drove back to Five Islands for another lobster roll before we had to leave in the morning. With the sun’s angle just right, I was more interested in capturing photos of the boats moored in the harbor and near the surrounding islands.
When I ordered our food, I noticed a live lobster, with its claws taped shut, resting in a box on the counter. Perhaps it had been ordered for a cook-it-yourself take-out.
When I returned to our table, two other couples had just sat down with their seafood dinners. They kindly allowed me to photograph a boiled lobster. Clearly, the cooked lobster was much more appetizing than the live one.
We greatly enjoyed our vacation with family and friends, meeting new people, and exploring new places. The bird outings were fun, too. The next morning’s sunrise served as a nice send-off.
The sunrise served as a lovely send-off for us. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
Roadkill Crossing 
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