This gorgeous lily is native to our area. They are often found in the boulder-strewn moraine fields where blueberries grow. I do worry about them as our blueberry fields are now so heavily herbicided.
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                                             Wood Lily

        Fine-grained New England granite is obdurate stuff.
        Long after the glacier’s press it stands untouched
        by the hot lick of burning barrens for blueberries
        or the trembling flame of open wood lily at its side.

                                                                                        That lone splash of red draws the eye
                                                                                         more strongly than the brief burnt orange zap
                                                                                         of delta-winged Skippers, or the lazy float of  Monarchs.
                                                                                        Drawn by what invisible force it torques the field,
                                                                                        the wood lily pulls bright against the rock.

This little rose pogonia is in the same family as the big showy fringed orchid I posted earlier, but this little gem is fairly common around here. Quite reliably we find it in the bog on my husband's birthday. We have been making an expedition on that day now for some fifty years!
I am amused to realize that not only do I have a mental map of where to go-- go to Scott's Landing to see the wood lilies and to Mariners Park for rhodora, I have a mental calendar as well. 

Full disclosure: although I am not planning to overwhelm this blog with all the fantastic beauties I encounter, the wood lilies too are a reliable birthday treat (as are the first blueberries to make our traditional blueberry pancake birthday breakfast). So at the risk of overwhelming, here is this year's wood lily.

A week ago I saw one of these handsome ctenucha moths alight on my native holly. Today the light was just right to take a photograph of it on the native holly blossoms. These pollinators are the unsung heroes of our Thanksgiving harvest of red-orange holly berries along our roadsides. I do not care for its common name of "wasp moth" but it is a little surprising looking. My poem of last year  bears out my impression that things are almost disconcertingly early this summer. I did see a fritillary this week, cicadas are singing and the first white aster is nodding in the shadows, so here we are.  High summer. Make the most of it.

Wasp Moth Encounter

With a wealth like coins
the silver spangling of a fritillary’s underwing
quite seduced me
until I had sat
still among the tall white asters
long enough for
a Zen abbot of a moth
Ctenucha Rōshi
to rearrange its sooty silken robe
collar bright above the dusky panels
saffron surprise
ink-black the eyes and probing sensitivities
– not the emerald shoulders
but the subtlety of restraint
pale whisper lines on gray
an August afternoon’s
enlightenment
while distantly
cicada sang.

Tucked away safely in the tall grasses at Scotts Landing Preserve is this
lovely orchid. Platanthere grandiflora is its scientific name. As if that were not riches enough for one day, the wood lilies are in bloom and the blueberries are ripening. Both the lilies and the orchid are uncommon enough that it would be terribly selfish to pick them, but the blueberries are quite another story. Do treat yourself soon if you can and come to this Island Heritage Trust preserve opposite the Causeway Beach.

The primrose moth sleeps the day away inside the lovely flower of the roadside wildflower, common evening primrose. Note these are not the primula primroses that the florists and supermarkets sell in early springtime when we are so flower-hungry!  These are native, and related to the larger garden flower we call sundrops. Aren't the little moths lovely? You have only to look inside a few of the sunny blooms to spy on one of these sleeping beauties.

My neighbor brought his son and 5 year old granddaughter over on a"hike". I picked one of my foxgloves for the little girl. She was delighted to observe that it was taller than she, taller than her Dad and taller than her Granddad. Just as she handed Grandpa her walking stick so she could use both hands to carry the flower home to show Mom, a young snowshoe hare hopped up to see what was going on.  The bunny hopped right up, gave us a good look, flicked its ears at us, and hopped off into the woods. I like to think it was okay that we just stood and talked to the little hare since we are adjacent to a nature preserve where probably its lack of fear of humans will not become an issue.  (We have given Island Heritage Trust a conservation easement on our bordering land.) We find that many bird and mammal species here on Deer Isle seem to think they are in some Shangri La or Brigadoon. A chickadee once came down and plucked a thread from Ken's collar as we sat in the morning sun having a cup of tea.  Amazing.