Hummingbird Moth
Ok. In this photo is a sphynx or hummingbird moth...can you see it? They come out each night at dusk and drink the nectar from the flowers in our yard...
The Bleeding-heart: a poem by Mary Oliver
I know a bleeding-heart plant that has thrived for sixty years if not more, and has never missed a spring without rising and spreading itself into a grassy bush, with many small red hearts dangling. Don't you think that deserves a little thought? The woman who planted it has been gone for a long time, and everyone who saw it in that time has also died or moved away and so, like so many stories, this one can't get finished properly. Most things that are important, have you noticed, lack a certain neatness. More delicious, anyway is to remember my grandmother's pleasure when the dissolve of winter was over and the green knobs appeared and began to rise, and to cre- ate their many hearts. One would say she was a simple woman, made happy by simple things. I think this was true. And more than once, in my long life, I have wished to be her.
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however my cats would have a field day catching them...