Path-side fennel kissed my shoulder early, wetly. Yesterday's rain still mists foliage and the spiders' traps glow in the sun, no-longer hidden. Bright and a little brutal, as mornings are as we turn to autumn. I watched shadows shorten as I washed the crockery; the beginnings of a mist began to rise.
Just now, a pixel green on gold, brighter than all the rest, picked out atop a withered umbellifer crown. Down the garden, hundred feet away: rose chafer.
