Common Nature

Taken on 28 May 2024 at 21:00 US Eastern Daylight Time:

(Warning for flashing lights and shaky camera.)

( Cut. )

(Not included: the sound of passing sirens.)

Taken on 9 June 2024 at 07:21 US Eastern Daylight Time:



Taken on 27 June 2025 at 19:46 US Eastern Daylight Time:



Taken on 27 June 2025 at 19:47 US Eastern Daylight Time:



Taken on 2 July 2025 at 19:43 US Eastern Daylight Time:



This gradually took shape across the parking lot from a local Asian fusion restaurant over 2024; between recovering from Hurricane Ian and the COVID quarantine, changing hands, and changing formats (from the mid-century Cantonese-American the original owners had served for forty years to a pan-Asian combination of sushi, ramen, and Chinese), they’d spent the previous couple years uneasily gaining their bearings.

The garden’s proximity to the street, along with the lack of any obvious receptacle for offerings, makes it clear that this is a more ornamental than devotional site. (A Web search indicates the presence of a local Buddhist temple, but the address is a private residence, and home worship services are for who they’re for, which does not include curiosity-gawking spiritual tourists.)

My guess is that the white-flowering shrubs are Star Jasmine (Trachelospermum jasminoides), aka Confederate Jasmine, Chinese Star Jessamine, and Trader’s Compass, native to warm regions in South and East Asia, and widely planted in the Southeastern U.S. The flowers’ heady indolic fragrance is prized in perfumery, but I’m afraid I haven’t the right sensory range to enjoy them.

Taken on 21 June 2024 at 20:33 US Eastern Daylight Savings Time, as I hurried up the street through the break in the rain.





My limited equipment does the scene nothing even remotely resembling justice: neither the multi-layered gauzy rainbow-sherbet luminosity nor the grand theatricality of the skyscape, with the air of a vintage book illustration or a meticulously painted film backdrop. A detail I particularly like is the small dark cumulus cloud at bottom center that suggests a person astride a charging (pig? bear? huge dog?)

Lizards have been somewhat fewer in the apartment complex than last year, and the other night I learned a possible reason: a Burrowing Owl (Athene cunicularia) couple have set up housekeeping on the back lawn next door! (No pictorial tax as yet: their nest, less than five feet from the curb, overlooks a back alley heavily travelled by garbage, service, and delivery vehicles as well as human cyclists and pedestrians—meaning that they’re probably experiencing botherance enough without amateur paparazzi. (1)

Burrowing Owls are regarded as local mascots and rigorously protected here; standard procedure upon discovering an inhabited burrow is to erect a little designated perch for the owls and cordon it off, crime-scene style, halting any human construction until the young have left the nest.

(1) Rule of thumb is that if the owls are reacting to your presence, you’re too close; the risk of attracting gawkers is one reason that doxxing Burrowing Owls nesting on private property is frowned upon around here. Schools, museums, and other such facilities, however, will encourage on-site nesting, observable by remote cam.

I’m finding varying accounts of how capable they are of digging their own burrows, but certainly the owls prefer the convenience of found housing when they can get it, not only taking over burrows constructed by other animals but occupying such human artifacts as PVC pipes; it’s quite possible to build artificial burrows to attract them.

Taken on 16 July 2023 at 19:27 US Eastern Daylight Savings Time.




Bunnies are of course going to favor weedy green lawns over elegant stone yards punctuated with waxy sculptural ornamentals. This one looks like an Eastern Cottontail (Sylvilagus floridanus); Marsh Rabbits (S. palustris) (1), tend to have shorter ears, and my neighborhood strikes me as a bit too far from the water to attract them during the dry season.

It’s on alert, reacting sensibly to the arrival of a member of the deadliest of the Thousand, and so this was the only shot I was able to get before it went PATWINNNG! under the seagrape bed (the round-leaved shrub at center right, bordered by white river rocks.)

(1) Today I Learned the scientific name of the Lower Keys Marsh Rabbit: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sylvilagus_palustris_hefneri

Yes; that Hugh Hefner funded endangered rabbit research, and was commemorated accordingly.

Taken at 5:52 PM EST 22 December 2023, this is something I really should’ve posted a year ago; I’m squeezing it under the wire just as the outgoing Lunar Year expires.

From the parking lot of my neighborhood Publix: the Rabbit prepares to hand the year over to the Dragon.