An excellent time to observe the more elusive visitors to a garden is early morning. It’s mid-July, and I’m up well before 7:00 this morning. A humid 75-degree haze fogs the windows and runs in rivulets down the panes. Our street is quiet. Only the regular runners and the occasional commuter are out and about.
I drain the last of my coffee and fit the Nikon D-800 with a macro lens. Stepping outside, the clear notes of our resident song sparrow pierce the air. I step into the front garden populated with dwarf conifers, barberry, roses, and lush fountains of maiden grass dripping with dew. I don’t have long to wait for the action to begin.