Unholy air, but as someone keeps telling me, "It is August." Three days of sparse sun between huge dark clouds, intermittent rain, some of it very heavy, has raised humidity, and what with a windless-ness, the conditions are ripe for the sorts of Pox that rot things, cause slime and other altered states. Down by the Compost there is joy and jubilation, and clusters of extraordinarily happy Flies.
Interesting too, is the behavior of Chipping and Field Sparrow. I
have seen them around Compost indulge what must be a Flycatcher Fantasy.
They don't quite have the agility in the air of something like a Phoebe or a
Gnat Catcher, but they are gallant and determined. And what with the Paleo
Cultist Cardinal butchering the Butterfly, times are strange out there.