It was dogbane giving the yellow out in the middle.
It is always a wonder that seeds fit in the skinny pods.
At the back of the field, black walnut bark's texture was enhanced against a background of golden sugar maple.
Burning bush all along the edge was in various states of color change.
Finally, a different goldenrod gall: this long, oval one from a moth.
A garden spider with a shield bug made me think about introducing them to my vegetable garden, where bugs made a mess of the tomatoes.
Something landed heavily in the goldenrod next to me: a praying mantis.
I manoeuvred for a better position to see and found it worked for both of us.
Returning to the Sedge Meadow Trail, I noticed a sawfly larva curled up under a leaf. A tiny spider was there too, but always went to the other side of the leaf when I tried to get a better look.
I sat a while at the bench in the Old Pasture hoping for, but finding none of the usual American coppers. I continued into the woods above the Wappinger Creek.
I stepped back to check the "four season view" of the creek before continuing on.
Lower down the hill was another favorite view right from the path.
The Cary Pines Trail is usually quiet and doesn't get featured much here. How does one photograph quiet?
The mood of quiet is replaced by one of mystery when brightness streams down through an absence of trees and the sound of distant rushing water comes up from the edge of nothing.
Just a touch of giddiness creeps in as the trail narrows to skim along a crest, the water louder and nearer, but still unseen below.
In a moment it is quiet and serene again, a passing sun beam illuminating the new color in a young beech.
The parking lot side of the Fern Glen deserved some attention. The American hazel had become proper shrubs over the several years since their planting.
Catkins, the male flowers, were already formed and would bloom in the Spring.
The red on the other side was azalea, its leaf buds also already waiting for Spring.
Just beyond was another shrub, a winterberry, but one with orange rather than red berries.
Back in the 'Glen's shrub swamp, the more usual winterberry was becoming a pale, ghostly whitish yellow in leaf.
I'd smelled witch hazel along the Wappinger Creek Trail, but here it was in the Glen blooming in my face.
Along the boardwalk in the fen, swamp milkweed pods stood erect, one just beginning to open.
The bench at the limestone cobble beckoned, but I continued on my way out.
As the path entered the woods again, I was surprised by a woolly bear. It was the first I'd seen on the trails today. Elsewhere lately, I've had to mind my every step.
Emerging into the Little Bluestem Meadow from the Old Gravel Pit, I was faced with another favorite view of Gifford House.
To the right, the far edge of the meadow reached around and out of sight.
Again Virginia creeper added amazing accents of red, but more amazing was the bird activity in the tops of the last pines.
The trill of several ruby-crowned kinglets had first drawn my attention above. Chickadees, yellow-rumped and palm warblers, and a downy woodpecker were with them all together in a dizzying flock.
Finally getting to the parking lot, I had to turn around to the sound of bluebirds and put up the binoculars one more time above the setting sun. It was just in time as the downy plunged into their midst. Ah, but it was a yellow-bellied sapsucker!
And way above all the tree top activity was one lone sillouette of a different shape and a different wing beat: a single monarch heading south.
