August 10 we had rain and thunderstorms in the morning and headed back to the island just as they were ending. After lunch I headed out into sun, strong wind and dramatic clouds to check on the Big Pond and Lost Swamp. Judging from how much I bailed from the boat, yesterday and today we had at least two inches of rain. So I looked forward to seeing those diminished ponds in a favorable light, damp at least and perhaps replenished a bit. I was having an uneventful walk on Antler Trail, when I noticed that the black raspberry bushes that had seemed dried out summoned enough life to produce a few tasty berries.
The nannyberries were also out, never any doubt of them making it and there seemed to be more than usual.
On my walks around South Bay, I noticed that after the heavy rains on July 29 that water started flowing out of these valleys again. Today water was running in the rivulet feeding the pond below the Big Pond. If a beaver had patched the dam, the Big Pond would have swelled, but a beaver hadn’t.
The pond still looked low though I could tell that rain had swelled it a little. I could see that a few feet of green grass was now flooded.
Water was flowing out of two holes through the dam.
It was easy walking in the grass behind the dam. The cut-grass was still below my waist. I tried to find the best spot in the middle of the dam to take a photo of the pond showing the old stream curving through what is now a grassy meadow.
The nearby bank lodge is being swallowed in green.
There was also a bay stretching over to the south shore of the pond, which I can’t account for. It curves like a stream but I don’t remember any inlet there.
I wonder if the beavers once had a lodge over there. The 10 yards of meadow now behind the north end of the dam looked very lush. The only way to spot the line of the old dam was from the line of vervain peaking over everything else.
I tried to walk out of the pond along the canal going north from the dam, but it was hard to find. Judging from the muddy water deer have been wading in the pond but they have not made any well worn trails down to the pond. When I walked up the slope toward the slight ridge overlooking the Lost Swamp Pond, I startled a fawn. It turned as if to run away and then turned and walked toward me.
It kept looking over to my right as if over there was a safe spot. Soon enough it realized it couldn’t get there and ran away from me smartly.
I kept my camera out as I walked over to the pond expecting to see some birds fly away. I first saw a small red tail hawk fly off from a tree just above me, and then heard and saw a kingfisher flying up the pond. When I sat down on the rock overlooking the mossy cove latrine, I saw something black dive into the water. It didn’t resurface quickly and proved to be a cormorant which quickly dove again. I moved up to a rock affording a better view of the pond and saw a heron stalking the south shore. The pond had much more water than last time I was here. Under a blue sky, with the wind scudding blue water the pond looked healthy.
There were three osprey perched on the tall dead tree behind the dam, and they were soon joined another.
A half dozen swallows were perched on a smaller dead tree nearby.
Of course, those smaller birds frequently took to the air. Then a green heron flew in and perched high on a a nearby tree.
I lifted those bird photos from the video I took
There were painted turtles up on most logs and they looked so at home there, suggesting that the higher water was not only from the recent rain.
However, I could see a water line on the dead tree trunks a few inches above the pond,
and I could see clumps of green grass on the old dam that had been flooded over. That suggested that the rise in the water level was recent. I sat for awhile and watched the heron stalk away, the kingfisher perch closer to me, and the cormorant swim in far southeast end of the pond. Two herons seemed to take umbrage and flew off from that end of the pond. I also saw two deer working different parts of the shore. One ran off and since it was not because of anything I did, I looked for a coyote on the prowl. One year a juvenile seemed to make this its summer home. But none materialized today. I walked around the west end of the pond. I noticed that the cormorant was perched on a rock drying its wings. Then I went through a now small wall of pilewort, my favorite flower that never blooms save with “flowers” of fuzzy seeds. I took a more artistic photo of a large pilewort framed by the pond.
Pileworts generally shun the water and this gangling one was actually well up on the shore. I went up the shady way to the dam which afforded me the pleasure of sampling a couple clumps of black raspberries. As I walked up to the dam, the cormorant flew off. The ospreys had left their tree while I was in the shade. I hoped to find signs of beaver activity, even otter scats, but saw none. Then I tried to determine if a beaver had worked on patching the hole in the dam. There was a good bit of water running through which argues against a beaver being there, but it had rained that morning.
The photo above is not that good because at first look the darker muck and water could be mistaken for mud pushed up by a beaver, which they weren't. The sticks in the gap are almost all sideways parallel to the line of the dam, and beavers generally, but certainly not always, lay sticks perpendicular to the dam. So I suspect that this pond survives because of the luck of the hole being narrow enough to catch enough floating and flowing material to patch itself. Time obviously will tell if a beaver is here. If here, it will probably patch the dam again tonight. The pond is lively enough that I think I will come out here tomorrow a dinner before my evening sojourn beside the East Trail Pond where I know there are beavers. I sat on a rock by the dam to ponder, and took a photo of the over grown dam.
In other years beavers usually found something growing on the dam there to subdue either by eating or sitting there grooming. I also didn’t notice any muskrat signs. They are more likely to be out at dinner time so maybe I’ll see some here tomorrow. However, I did see a lump on the lodge in the middle of the pond, and with the camcorder zoomed in on a snapping turtle.
That animal has worn out that lodge this year. I headed back by walking along the south shores of the Second Swamp Pond and Otter Hole Pond. There is more water now in the former,
And it looked like water was flowing out of the dam. I didn’t walk over to make sure, but the channel behind it, that had been dry, now had water in it.
From the rock south of the dam, I took a photo looking up pond. Most years, a sheet of water mirrored the thunderheads I so often saw looking in the that northeasterly direction.
What stream there was going through Otter Hole pond was completely shielded by the dense vegetation of the meadow. I wanted to go home via the South Bay trail to see if the mushrooms had revived down there. I saw many more but no chanterelles. However I saw the most photogenic clump of mushrooms as I walked up the north slope of the ridge south of the bay.
As usual we went back to our land in the late afternoon and after dinner I walked down to the Deep Pond. There was a bold sunset with puffy white clouds bathed in deepening reds.
The beaver was out and at first swam around so coyly that it crossed my mind that it too was enjoying the sunset and not taking its measure of me. Then it got to work, and in the dimming light I saw it diving behind the dam and pushing what it dredged up onto the dam. I assume mud, though I couldn’t see it.
I have a way to easily measure the depth of the pond by the level the water reaches on the ladder I put on the bank to ease my way in the pond for swimming, which I haven’t done here yet this year -- flies have been so bad.
Then the drama in the heavens reached its dramatic peak,
Meanwhile our neighbor finished his haying and just when I finished my walk down where the road touches White Swamp, he brought the load down to his pastured cattle on the other side of the road. So here is a video of another herbivore enjoying the fruits of the land.
I enjoy watching the self reliant beaver more though the hoots of the cattle can be impressive.
August 11 I checked the Deep Pond dam and got photos of the mud and vegetation the beaver pushed up on the dam last night.
The water looked lower but that in part was due to the beaver making the dam bigger. A few feet farther along there was more work, and a thicker glob of mud.
From what I saw last night the beaver shakes vegetation when it is dredging up mud and no doubt brings up some plants too. On the next area needing repair I saw a plant buried in the a dollop of mud.
This is not idle work. The dam at the last two places it is pushing mud is quite thin, and the first area seems to have a deep hole. Since this pond was dug with a power shovel years ago, it is not going to go dry, but deeper water makes the burrows in the banks beavers have made over the years more useful. That said, the area of the pond in front of the bank lodge under the knoll doesn’t give the impression of a beaver being active there. No nibbled sticks, no obvious trail through the vegetation. All the water lilies are still there, and no trails through the vegetation suggesting visits to the nearby shore, not even to the two areas east of the entrance to the lodge where I had seen it grooming.
As usual, we went back to the island in the afternoon and I planned to spend the night. I had a snack at 5:30 and headed for the island beaver ponds. I sat briefly at the Big Pond, saw a heron fly off but nothing else, which is what I expected. The pond is still leaking through the hole in the dam at about the same rate as it was yesterday. I thought more vegetation was emerging in the middle of the pond. Everything looked the same as yesterday behind the dam. Then I pressed on to the Lost Swamp Pond where I had hopes of seeing something. At first it was just like yesterday afternoon. A hawk and kingfisher flew off. One osprey was perched up in the dead tree behind the dam, or so I thought. As I walked onto the rock above the mossy cove latrine to where I usually sit, I smelled a poop and saw a wet brownish blob that I didn’t see there yesterday.
If I knew otters were around I would have leaned to calling it some over digested otter scat. But it somewhat reminded me of the smell of skunk scat. That spot was also under a tall pine tree where large birds might perch. Although I saw a large deer staring at me from the rocks above the north shore of the pond,
nothing was stirring in the west end of the pond so I moved up to some rocks to east. Then that osprey flew off and I saw that it was actually a cormorant. It circled over the southeast end of the pond and after it landed, two herons flew up from the pond. The cormorant found a perch on the limbs of a dead shrubby tree in the pond. I sat for a half hour on the south shore of the pond, but I didn’t even see a muskrat much less a beaver. What I saw, however, was quite striking, like a rainbow of greens surrounding the darkening pond.
Then when I walked up to get a better view of the southeast end of the pond and what the cormorant was up to down there, something left the beaver lodge in the middle of the west end of the pond and swimming underwater left a narrow wake on the surface of the water. That was more like an otter than any other mammal, but I thought it might be a large bullfrog. I scanned the pond waiting for something to surface and nothing did. Then when I stood up to take some photos roughly similar to those I took of the pond yesterday,
I saw a wake going to the lodge by the dam. I got the camcorder out to late, and never saw anything surface. What ever it was went into the lodge. So while bullfrogs don’t always surface so they can be seen from such a distance, they usually don’t swim such a distance. I have seen wary otters swim from point to point in a pond completely underwater. Needless to say I took a harder look at the poop on the rock above the mossy cove latrine, and looked around the mossy cove latrine. I didn’t sense that otters had been there. I walked around the west end of the pond and up to the dam hoping to see fresh otter scat and fresh work on the hole in the dam. I saw neither, and as is my wont sat on a rock near the dam and pondered. Then the cormorant flew over and landed high in the dead trees where the osprey usually perch.
It took the cormorant a while to get balanced up on that dead limb, suggesting to me that it was emulating the osprey more than assuming a familiar perch for the night. Plus it seemed to pay attention to the swallows flying over its head. I got the impression that this was a young cormorant quite new to the world. As its feather dried I saw that its breast was brown, and I later saw in the books that that is indicative of the juvenile.
After forcing it to fly away yesterday, I hated to leave, but I had to. As I did, it didn’t seem to bat an eye, and didn’t fly off. I crossed the Upper Second Swamp Pond dam, which had a leaky dam to hop over, and then went down the low woods north of the Second Swamp Pond. I wanted to check the vernal pool where I saw a beaver in the late spring. On the way I scared a young porcupine climbing up into a small tree.
Thanks to the recent rains, the vernal pool had as much water as when the beaver was there, but the pool was choked with a good deal more vegetation.
As I crossed the creek draining the East Pond I looked down the valley for cardinal flowers, where I see them every summer, but I didn’t see any. I’ll have to take a closer look because the nettles in the valley were quite high. Then at about 7:30 I got to a shady nook half way up the ridge south of the East Trail Pond, sat down, even able to sling my legs over a leaning basswood trunk and waited for a beaver to appear or to hear the whine of a kit from the lodge. But first I had to sort out some bird noises. The birds were nearby but I couldn’t see them. The more authoritative sounded like a pileated woodpecker but the bird responding yukked it up like a ficker, so I assume they were flickers. Then I was diverted by a deer browsing at the foot of a far ridge preferring dry vines to the lush greens of the meadow.
I didn’t have long to wait for a beaver to appear. One swam out from the flooded cattails between the lodge and dam. I assumed it was inspecting the dam, but it may have been on another mission. It slapped its tail in my direction and then swam away from me behind the dam, all before I could get my camcorder trained on it. I was nonplussed because I thought I was perfectly concealed. But since they moved into Shangri-la Pond four years ago these beavers never liked my looking down at them from a ridge. I wondered if the game was up, that no kit would come out while my odor hovered over the pond. There was only one way to find out and I sat and waited some more. That same beaver soon came back
and this time seemed only attentive to repairing the dam, then it swam away again.
After I thought I heard a whine from the lodge, I went down the ridge and sat on a granite boulder which afforded me a view of the top of the lodge. But I didn’t hear any more whines. As it got dark, I moved down and sat on a downed tree trunk closer to the light, but heard and saw nothing but frogs, say two bullfrogs to every one green frog. During the day it’s four to one, green over bull frogs. Since it was a cloudy night I guess I was cheated of a quarter hour of viewing. I did enter that period in the gloaming when I had to study various shadows in the pond waiting for them to move like a beaver, but they never did. I walked up the shore, where there was still some light. I flushed a black bird out of a tree which squawked a bit like a green heron as it flew off. I made a point of not stumbling as I walked the trail back to South Bay and home. I startled one deer and even stopped to let it pass. Then I thought I saw its outlines standing still just off the trail. I snapped a photo trusting that the flash would reveal an inexperienced fawn, but I saw that it was just a small doe
with its white flag tail down. So no beaver kits tonight. I might not be able to try to see them again until September.
August 12 My plan was to wake up at dawn and kayak to Picton Island and look for otters. The forecast was for calm winds. But when I woke at 5:30, a half hour before dawn, I heard the river and saw a steady chop in our cove which meant that there would be more waves to contend with out in the river. Plus I heard the boats of fishermen, and didn’t want to join them in my motor boat. So I went back to bed. Then I had to clean the house for renters. When I got back to our land in the late afternoon, I sought nature’s balm, which meant seeing what the beaver did at the Deep Pond dam and seeing what the beavers absence meant to the Last Pool and Boundary Pond. The beaver has widened its repair at the area nearest to where I sat west of the dam, doubling the size of where it's pushing up grasses and mud.
And it also widened its attack, if you will, at what I thought was the section of the dam that most needed shoring up.
I was impressed and decided it was time I tried to get over to another weak part of the dam, which I had to do by veering below the dam. So I waded through cut-grass and here and there some water, which was interesting. I discovered that most of the water leaking from the dam was coming from the area nearest to where I sat. I also discovered that the honeysuckles were too thick to let me get up to the middle of the dam so I had to content myself with walking around the pond, looking back and taking a photo of what I couldn’t get to.
Otherwise the pond looked the same, nothing new around the lodge. So I went up to where I think the beaver will start cutting trees, in the woods southeast of the pond. The beavers in the pond two years ago did a good bit of tree cutting here, but now there seems to be plenty of small maples for this beaver to enjoy,
though I have my doubts that beavers really enjoy these maple saplings. With my next step into the woods, I almost stepped on a dead turkey sprawled down in a manner showing all its beautiful feathers.
Then I reached the deeper woods. This time of year especially the contrast between meadow and woods is astounding. I was in a different world of dark vacancy. I could move without any green tugging at me. I headed over the ridge to Boundary Pond regretting that there was so little to notice in that vacancy under the canopy, small islands of ferns and mosses, and the memory of spring flowers. Boundary Pond has rebounded. There is a semblance of the hour glass shape of the old pond when it was in its low water state two summers ago yet still hospitable to beavers.
The lodge was once again surrounded by water.
And while the pond looked dwarfed by the dam, the inconsequential jewel weed shooting up made that impression.
But no beavers had returned. My guess is that each time rain increases the flow out of the dam, more debris works into the holes in the dam leaking water, that I can’t see. In a short time, I assume, the water will work its way through the dam again. With mosquitoes pursuing me, a pesky small aggressive new crop of them, I didn’t sit, like I did a few days ago, and contemplate this. I took a photo from the east shore looking over the pools back to the lodge. There was once again almost a continuous sheet of water.
Then I walked quickly up the east shore. With water covering more of the mud flats, it was easier to see how the grasses were recovering along the channel above the pond.
And the greening of the sun drenched lower end of the canal was greater than the still shady reach up to the Last Pool.
The Last Pool channel had swelled with the rain water too,
The hole that the beavers dug into a mossy mound along the channel that I was planning to explore was once again flooded enough to keep me out.
However, as I feared the water drains out of the Last Pool
and there was virtually none around the Last Pool lodge.
If only the beavers had lived here another year of two, then I think this pool would have been dredged deeper, and, just as before the beavers came, there would remain a string of discrete pools down this valley once they left.
August 13 a warm humid Saturday and I had a chance to kayak over to South Bay so I took it. The river was dominated by pleasure boats and I’d say a larger percentage were large overweight boats so I suppose that kept the geese and ducks that might congregate a bit at this time of year in gentler parts of the river. At this time of year I look for bryozoa but I bet the high water will keep them from appearing. I didn’t see any but looking out for water lilies was sport enough. As I paddled toward the willow latrine in the south cove of the bay, I saw blooms at the far end the cove and then saw a speck of white in front of the willow. Sure enough there were two small water lily blooms. I also saw another intriguing white flower with, as Leslie later pointed out, flowers with three petals, arranged in bunches of three on a three sided stalk.
It should be named after some saint, but we think it is a variety of arrowhead. The water level has been dropping, at least a foot in the past two weeks, so the old otter latrines are no longer flooded. But I didn’t see any otter signs around the willow latrine. However, I did see cattails and other stalks pulled up so I think a beaver has been around. There was no osprey on the usual perch high in the trees, nor any herons in the trees or along the shore. As I paddled out of the cove, I went over dying spatterdock blooms. I checked the otter latrines in the north cove and there were no otter scats there. Certainly, no mother is raising her pups here. Nor were there any signs of beaver activity. The water lilies were bigger in this cove, but I didn’t see any spatterdock yellow or dull. As I paddled into the back of the cove I finally saw an osprey perched in a tree which looked like one of the ospreys I saw in the tree behind the Lost Swamp Pond dam, which isn’t very far from the end of South Bay, for an osprey. There were a few small painted turtles up on logs. As I paddled home I heard some more osprey and saw a cormorant flying, heading toward Eel Bay. Too many people around for nature to enjoy this smaller bay. We headed back to our land after the new renters for our house on the island checked in. I must say our land, usually our paradise, is becoming problematic on these humid days because of ferocity of the little mosquitoes. Walking is bearable, but stop and then dozens are swarming around me. We saw a katydid latched to one of the fences around our tomatoes.
Of course, night falls earlier now, a little after 8pm, but there are few birds to entertain us, sometimes a snatch of towhee song while it is still light, and a snatch whip-poor-will song when it's dark. The most persistent singer is the cuckoo. It would be nice to see one. Then the chorus of crickets picks up and we are lulled to sleep.
August 15 yesterday we waited for rain and then it came in the late afternoon, steadily but no down pours and rained half the night. So I didn’t have to confront the mosquito problem yesterday. This morning I needed a walk and headed down the road, as I often do, and as long as I kept moving, the mosquitoes were not remarkable, but again, as soon I stopped they buzzed all around me. So when I saw a small bush with striking white berries in the dark woods along the road, I quickly took a photo, and didn’t even think of going down to take a closer look.
It continued cloudy damp all morning, threatening more rain, so I didn’t do any work outside. We went to the island and the library, and when we got back to our land in the afternoon, I made a quick check of the Lost Pool to see if water backed up into the pool. I used some body mosquito netting as a scarf over my head, protecting my ears but allowing me to see. I use head netting when I go out to see beavers but that doesn’t work when you aim to look at things in general. My scarf calmed my nerves as long as I kept walking but at the end of Grouse Alley when I stopped to take a photo of the modest white flowers which are prevalent now, mosquitoes were all over my hands which accounts in part for the poor photograph. Otherwise these flowers seem to be incapable of being in focus with an automatic camera. White snake root, Leslie reminds me.
With the more frequent rains, mushrooms are coming up all over, erupting in a day under leaves that took a season to grow.
If I can better solve the mosquito problem, I will make a wider search for mushrooms. There were two other varieties around this one, a bolete, I assume. The mosquitoes propelled me to the Last Pool and the last rain, probably around a half inch, did back up water a little.
The channel by the cache had a puddle in it.
These are somewhat tedious observations but seeing water in the little depression dredged by the beavers, that I call the wallow, rather excited me.
But last year this wallow watching had a point. The beavers used it. Now it is just a puddle like any other. I walked back by going up the valley to the trail that passes the ripple rock. Mosquitoes ranged along there too. Before seeking safety indoors, I took photos of some mushrooms around the house, an aminita
And a lobster mushroom.
Within the hour, it started raining again, pretty hard at times, and lasted almost 2 hours. More mushrooms soon, I expect.
August 16 we had more rain yesterday evening, and a cloudy, humid night, so this morning was steamy, which the mosquitoes seemed to enjoy. I skipped work in the morning and went to the library, and then we lingered during our daily trip to the island. It was less humid in the late afternoon when we got back to the land, but a bit hotter. I went up to the Teepee Pond to uncover the wood pile there, and along the 30 yard trail through the woods from the road to the pond noticed a wide variety of mushroom shapes and, I supposed, species. However any pause to look at them attracted a swarm of the small mosquitoes plaguing us at the moment. But after I uncovered the wood, I bucked up my courage, got out my camera and resolved to take as many photos of mushrooms as I could bear. I started with some growing up next the trunk of a cedar that blew down a few winters ago. One mushroom seemed to grow up through a spider's web which made it look like it was veiled.
The two mushrooms nearby were thick bulbous caps.
I am a sometimes student of mushrooms and have picked morelles on our land, and chanterelles and black trumpets on the island for my family. I don’t enjoy eating mushrooms, but I am overwhelmed when they come out in such numbers as they are this week. Our land has always had plenty of amanitas, and that warns me from hazarding to label anything vaguely similar as another kind of mushroom that someone might mistake as edible. The mushroom in the photo below looks like an amanita that is all stalk and forgot to form its usual umbrella cap.
More to the point for is that it looks like an erect penis, a shape of mushroom I rarely see and that suggests the vigor with which the mushrooms are growing now that there are ideal conditions for their growth for the first time this summer. Next I saw a modest lemon yellow mushroom, and some years this is about the only mushroom I see in this part of the woods. But I should be careful about saying that as this mushroom might grow four times larger and the usual yellow mushrooms I see stay about this size.
Not far from it was the largest mushroom I saw today complete with a puddle of water on its concave cap which looked like it was developing its own ecosystem.
I am always attracted to what a mushroom book says should be called “pieces of the outer veil,” which always strike me as having some geometric subtlety that is beyond me.
The next mushroom I saw looked like a chef had prepared it to grace a light luncheon. I only saw one of these.
One thing puzzles me about many natural things that grow in a circular shape. There is often a gap from the center to the edge. When splitting logs, I try to key on that gap. I often see it in mushrooms, and wonder if the organism grew too quickly to fit all parts together and pre-plans that gap, or was this mushroom perfect a few hours again and then stress caused that gap to form? Probably the latter.
But more notable about the mushroom is the gentle shading of its ghostly colors. Thank to the camera flash I got another ghostly image of the next mushroom. I assume it pushed that large green leaf up and over as it emerged. I also like the craters on top, like it is a piece of the moon.
The next mushroom seemed to be bursting at the seams, and about to tumble over. I better figure out the name of this one to redeem my nonsensical reaction to it. Leslie says it’s a type of boletus.
In the darker areas of the woods there were a couple effusions of the whitest fungi. I should be able to find out what it is called. Ramariopsis?
Judging from the photos in the mushroom book I have, the mushroom below is a Lactarius rufus, and the photos in the book don’t have that gap only half a radius long in the photo below. Poisonous the guide says.
I got a perfect angle for a photo of an amanita. If the mosquitoes were not so bad, I would have taken a close up of that
Then I saw more beautiful colors and shapes, with no idea what kind of mushroom.
When I took the photo of the small mushroom below I was attracted by its toothy rim and what looked like a filmy extension of the mushroom on the sticks below. I didn’t notice the handsome snail head reaching toward the middle of the luscious cup.
I saw several clumps of the mushroom below and usually along this trail we get a basketball sized clump of more perfectly formed mushrooms. So I will wait before trying to identify these to see if they get larger and more regular.
Of course animals eat these mushrooms and I usually ignore those that look torn apart, but the one below struck me as being irregular from the get-go. And the book says there are mushrooms, the Helvella infula, that can ge shaped somewhat like this.
I took all those photos in about 5 minutes, thanks to the persistence of the mosquitoes. They were not so bad near out house, and I noticed that one of the mushrooms there seemed to emulating our nearby house.
That mushroom strikes me as having had too much of a good thing, though I have no idea what is good for a mushroom, ambient dead things? One measure of the ferocity of mosquitoes is how soon you forget that they are there and make plans as if they are not. Usually in the summer here they are easy to forget. But today, all through dinner I made plans for them. The clouds outside looked beautiful in the setting sun and I was not going to let the mosquitoes cheat me of the pleasure of seeing that. So I decided to use that mosquito netting we have as a scarf again. With that protection I would sit by the Deep Pond dam and watch the clouds while waiting for the beaver to come out. I lasted about a minute in the chair. Got up and took a photo of the dam which seemed to show both more beaver patching and a lower water level.
Then I hurried back to the road and took my evening walk, fast so the mosquitoes couldn’t quite keep up with me.
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