It is the time of fullness, the time of harvest; the boardwalk is being overcome with green branches and vines trailing over it. The poison ivy is dark green and verdant, dripping urushiol on unsuspecting hikers and the coats of dogs. Again, after rains, the water is high. The gnats and mosquitoes are out in droves. There is a field of vibrant zinnias along the way, deep pinks, brilliant oranges and reds, soft yellows and even the occasional white bloom. On a path through tall bushes and brambles, there are pink Scottish thistles growing over ten feet in height. Near the wetlands are Dutchman's britches, the white massed blooms of Confederate Jasmine (Virgin's Bower), yellow woodland sunflowers, a tiny red flower on a vine, bunches of small purple blossoms on long stems hanging over the boardwalk. In a field of brown grasses, tiny white spiders have made thousands of pot holder sized delicate webs, glistening, ghostly in the morning dew.
Reaching the creek, I scare up a group of deer drinking water on the near side. They plunge, splashing into the water and up the far bank into the woods. Where I found the snake skin, a bridge has fallen off the muddy bank, but right away, someone has shored up the path.
At home, in my yard, I can hardly step for the countless hoppy toads that scatter along the ground before me.
And there at my back porch, the butterfly bush is full of yellow swallow tailed winged creatures, opening and closing their wings, mysteriously flittering into life and out again. Butterfly, in Greek, psyche, the word also for soul.
"He leadeth me beside the still waters
He restoreth my soul"
The 23rd psalm, The Holy Bible
* The yellow tiger swallow tailed butterfly is the state butterfly of South Carolina.
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