No bigger than a 25-cent piece, this moth caught my eye as I walked out to get the mail. Its contrasting black and yellow wings stood out from the marbled pattern of our decades-old, well-worn concrete driveway.
Yet, the deceased insect seemed to blend in with the drive’s mishmashed surface. Perhaps it was the moth’s yellowish stripes that complemented the beige of the hardened concrete. The famous hard, blue limestone of the Shenandoah Valley, coupled with the crushed browns and grays of the area’s river rock, formed a flat tombstone of sorts that honored the dead moth’s demise.
Then again, maybe I am romanticizing my good fortune in spotting the moth at all. According to Kenn Kaufman’s “Field Guide to Insects of North America,” Nais Tiger Moths are widespread east of the Rocky Mountains.
Therefore, I hope you can also see this ubiquitous little moth, and trust it will be alive.
Occasional rains and warm temperatures continue to be the norm in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley. That combination has led to a continuation of summer’s bright colors.
From landscapes to sky to insects, to animals to flowers, wild and cultivated, a rainbow of colors has filled each day.
Variegated Fritillary butterfly on Zinnia. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
I was out taking photos of some flowers my energetic wife has cultivated around our home. This patch of Zinnias caught my attention.
Just as I was ready to take the photo, this pretty Variegated Fritillary butterfly landed on a fuchsia-colored Zinnia in the middle of the patch. The lovely photobomb was a welcome addition to these bright flowers and a new focus to the photo.
Summer 2025 colors have not disappointed so far. We are only a month into the summer season in the Northern Hemisphere, and there have been plenty of opportunities to photograph her vibrant palette of hues and tones.
Here are two sets of my favorite representations of this brilliant calidoscope.
Landscapes
Please click on the photos to view them in full size.
A fairy ring or circle in our neighbor’s backyard. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
Each year, a fairy ring or circle appears in our next-door neighbor’s backyard. They often don’t get to see it since they go camping as often as they can.
After several rounds of heavy recent rains, this circle of False Parosal fungi popped up. In the morning, only a couple of fungi appeared. By late afternoon, the fairy circle was nearly complete.
The circles are also known as an elf circle, an elf ring, or a pixie ring. They are naturally occurring rings or arcs of non-edible mushrooms. Some cultures consider these mushroom circles a bad omen, while others think they bring good luck.
This particular ring has occurred nearly every summer in the eight years we have lived in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley. Shortly after taking these photos, the circle disappeared, not by some fairy’s magic trick, but by a lawnmower.
Have you ever seen circles like these where you live?
Prices for small-eared sweet corn. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
A produce farmer near where we live in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley has a small self-serve stand where he sells his homegrown sweet corn. My wife and I stopped to get a few ears and saw this confusing pricing.
We just chuckled at the skewed mathematics. When our neighbor, who also buys corn there, told us that he had informed the farmer of his pricing error, the man just shrugged his shoulders and walked away.
We bought four small ears of the “Incredible” sweet corn, placed our dollar bill in the box, and drove home. For the record, the corn was named correctly. It was incredible.
Sunset from Mole Hill, Dayton, Virginia. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
Being at the right place at the right time is an essential part of photography. That’s what happened recently when I went to photograph the sunset from my favorite location, Mole Hill, near Dayton, Virginia.
When I arrived on the west side of Mole Hill, a noted area landmark, I discovered I was not alone. Several cars were stopped ahead of me on the gradual downhill slope. But once the sun sank behind the Allegheny Mountains, the vehicles continued on.
On my way up the road, I noticed a horse-drawn cart with an Old Order Mennonite young woman and two girls sitting on the wooden bench. They were parked beneath a walnut tree, admiring the various colors of the quickly changing landscape.
Imagine my surprise when I heard the clip-clop of horse hooves on the road’s surface. I turned around and saw the cart coming my way. I couldn’t believe my good fortune.
Out of respect to them, I waited until they were well past me before I took the photo. Like the Amish, Old Order Mennonites do not want their pictures taken for religious reasons.
Their little cart, with their yellow caution lights flashing, made this ho-hum sunset spectacular. I’m grateful I was there at the right time to capture the scene.
When I saw the high, thin clouds 30 minutes before sunset, I thought there might be a chance for spring to say farewell in color. As it turned out, it was more about the setting than spectacular sunset colors.
When I arrived at my favorite location to photograph sunsets, I wasn’t alone. Four other cars were ahead of me. However, they soon left, and I had the space all to myself, save for a passing horse-drawn cart with three young Old Order Mennonite ladies aboard.
We exchanged hellos, and I waited for the oranges that usually come when the sky is mostly clear over the Allegheny Mountains to the west. I wasn’t disappointed.
However, it was the big picture of the setting that got my attention. Below the glowing sky, another scene unfolded. The rolling, fertile farmland of western Rockingham County, Virginia, dotted by verdant woodlots, filled the foreground.
Beyond, mist rose from the valleys between forest-covered North Mountain and the higher Shenandoah Mountain. In the twilight, their iconic blue hues created a natural boundary between the golden sky and the farmsteads below.
Spring’s last sunset may have said goodbye, but it also set the stage for the joys of summer.
Flowers, wild or propagated, flourish this time of year. With warmer temperatures, cooler nights, and well-watered fields and forests, floral colors brighten neighborhoods, countrysides, and forest floors.
Here are a few photos of flowers I spotted wherever I went.
Around our house.
Wildflowers.
Along the path.
Honeysuckle.
Mountain Laurel.
Foxglove Beardtongue
Delphinium.
Golden Ragwort.
Cultivated.
At the arboretum.At the neighbor’s.Calla Lililies. Planter.Climatis.Rose Campion.Church decor.
After an 8 a.m. doctor’s appointment, I took a long and much-needed walk in the woods. It happened that the doctor’s office was adjacent to one of my favorite places in the Shenandoah Valley.
The Edith J. Carrier Arboretum on the James Madison University campus in Harrisonburg, Virginia, is a life-giving oasis among 21st-century din. There, birdsong, blossoms, and the verdant forest provide a temporary sanctuary from life’s bustling and boisterous busyness.
To be sure, you still hear the sirens, the traffic’s hum on the interstate that cuts the campus and town in half, the train horns, even the airliners cruising into airports two hours away.
The forest canopy covers you with its sacred, healing goodness. It’s life’s true purpose. Use your senses to enjoy the rapturous unfolding.
A late-migrating Wilson’s Warbler flits and feeds on insects deep in the recesses of dense elderberry bushes. Wood Thrushes sing their multiphased cheery song in the shadows of the mixed deciduous woodlots. American Robins scold one another as they defend their nesting territory.
A Wood Thrust sheltered in the shade of a hickory tree. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
A slight mist rises from the forest floor, beckoned by the strengthening morning light. White-breasted Nuthatches, Eastern Wood-Pewees, Tufted Titmice, Northern Cardinals, Carolina Wrens, and Song Sparrows fill the wooded ravine with glorious, variegated tunes. A Red-bellied Woodpecker’s vocalization echoes deep from the hillside woodlot while an American Crow sails through the trees, cawing from one perch to the other.
Each in their own way, joggers, birders, parents with toddlers, grandparents, and college students enjoy this preserved paradise. Time in the arboretum is an equal opportunity home with a smorgasbord of enjoyment. Some are passing through. Some are exploring the flora and fauna. Others simply sit, look, listen, and smile.
A lone rhododendron holds onto its precious purple blossoms along a wood-chipped path in the shade of the congregation of hardwoods. Here and there, morning light filters through the giants’ canopy, speckling the forest floor.
The broad leaves of huge hosta plants invite you to explore, hike, relax, reflect, listen, and admire all that nature has to offer. A well-located bench beckons you to sit a spell and breathe in the cool freshness before summer’s heat and humidity arrive.
My only shot of a reclusive male Wilson’s Warbler. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
Roadkill Crossing 
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