In a world divorced from nature, we are privileged that birds let us into their lives in a way no other wild creature permits. It’s because they can so easily escape us by soaring above our heads. And it’s their good fortune that we’re generally well-disposed towards them because of their beauty. 

A beauty that’s wonderfully illustrated in a new book, The Birds of Georgian Bay by Bob Whittam. The pictures alone offer rewarding insight into the relationships birds have with each other and their environment.

Late-bloomers are precious, a final fling before the protective mantle of winter descends to slow the rhythm of our landscape. 

Cimicifuga americana, with long racemes of creamy white flowers, is the late-season winner for me this year. I found a monarch butterfly at the plant on October 24 – that was my last sighting of a monarch - and as of two days ago, there were still a few bees and other insects on the wing enjoying the nectar. The constant rain has put a bit of a damper on that parade, but the Cimicifuga still looks fresh and inviting. 

It was so pleasant this evening, sitting out by the firepit with a glass of wine after a delicious meal of grilled Georgian Bay whitefish (thank you, Lepage Fishery of Lafontaine). 

To the west, the sky turned turquoise and peach and mother of pearl; above us birds fluttered; all around, insects hummed. This unusually warm and dry summer continues. 

But there was something missing that tugs at my heartstrings.