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Arachnophobes beware! I finally timed it right and captured the largest of the many orb weavers in our backyard this morning building its new web. This timelapse at a frame a second, captures about an hour’s worth of webspinning.

I missed capturing the latest cereus cactus flower’s nocturnal opening Tuesday night, but yesterday morning I set up my cam before the bloom  at 6:40 a.m. and timelapsed the following two sunrise hours of it slowly — almost imperceptibly — closing up shop.

There are certainly lulls in the activity, but it’s fascinating (to me, at least) not only how the bees frolickingly  interact with the blossom but also as the opening gets progressively smaller how they seem almost hyper-aware that their time with the flower is fleeting.

There’s a jumping spider who hangs out on the edge of the petals at one point, and keep an eye out near the middle for the big carpenter bee — especially nearer the end when it barrels its way inside through the almost-closed petals for one last round.

Whatever biological elements conspired to limit our property’s usual orb spider inundation this past year or two are not in effect this time around. These awesome arachnids have been out and about the yards early, albeit smaller in size than I typically see.

Until this morning, when I found this fine large specimen working on its web under the backyard bougainvillea (click it for the bigger picture):

For all you arachniphobes out there… sorry. It can’t all be hummingbird chicks and butterflies.

If it’s any consolation there is of course the drawback that I’m walking  face first into far more webs strung across walkways and such. But doing my exceptionally erratic version of the spiderwebfacefreakout dance is mostly a small price to pay to get to hang with such amazing creatures.

Mostly.

It’s that time of year and the neighbor’s fence-sitting cereus cactus is wonderfully at it again. I noticed the blooms-to-be about a week ago, but wasn’t expecting them to open up so quickly.

And when they do, the early-morning bees drop any interest in sunflowers and literally go swimming in them. So of course I stuck my iPhone’s cam all up in the bloom to catch the action. It’s pretty cool:

Sorry to cut off right at that particular moment. My iPhone shut down right then… either because it’s afraid of bees or I was holding it wrong. Or perhaps it was just trying to spare you from listening to me blather on.

Here’s two hours in the afternoon of one of my Great Sunflower Project sunflowers, timelapsed down to eight minutes. In addition to all the bees that visit it as it bops around in the breeze, at one point (about 1:35 in) this bloom gets the attention of a spotless ladybug, and later (about 6:52 in) the camera picks up the blurred-out shape of a squirrel cruising across the top of the fence in the background. Blink and you’ll miss ‘em.

In the course of my timelapse of a sunflower yesterday I was enthralled by one of the tiny visitors the camera captured during its extended stay:

Just can’t help myself from sharing when I find a nice still from the timelapses I do of the sunflowers in my backyard patch (click it for the bigger picture):

As to why I timelapse? It’s all part of making my voluntary observations for the Great Sunflower Project more efficient. Rather than physically park myself in front of a chosen flower for a 30-minute interval (when I should be working), I let my camera capture whatever activity occurs for review at a later time. In the words of Dana Carvey’s “Church Lady,” how conveeeeeeeeeenient!.

PS. That round rusted thing hanging in the background on the well-weathered northside fence post was unearthed by me during some of my previous backyarchaeological excavations. I think it’s something related to a brake system from some old jalopy that was parked back here before the garage got built in 1916, but if anyone eyeballing it has a more-informed idea I’d love to hear it.

There I was sun-dappled and slaving away outside on the laptop, the tracks of a CD of Spanish guitar music filling the space with sound from the two wireless outdoor  faux-rock speakers I’m so glad I bought last week. Two cats were napping opposite me in patio chairs and a drowsy Ranger dog snoozed at my feet.

Such can be my workday hell.

When I first heard the tapping behind me I figured it would be just one of those rascally squirrels gnawing on a walnut from the tree next door and so I ignored it. But the noise continued and  there was something too percussive about it to be a rodent.

So I got up and looked closer and sure enough it was a rate treat: a Nuttall’s woodpecker doing its very best to extract and eat whatever insectivorous nutrition might have been available from the branch to which it clung. It also did its very best to avoid any positions on the branches that might allow me to get a great shot of it. Of the 48,004 snapped this was the best and least obstructed of ‘em (click for the bigger picture):

Working outside in the satellite office (i.e., the backyard) this afternoon I was joined by officemates Pepper and Ranger, the latter whom took full advantage of the former’s position in a patio chair (as well as his predilection for cleanliness) for a little inter-species grooming. Enjoy.

Wiping up the counter after doing the dishes yesterday morning, one could almost hear the cartoonish tire-screeching sound as I stopped the paper towel literal millimeters from this leggy leeeetle fella I saw parked there. In a world full of people who have 1,276 more important things to do than waste time over trespassing insects, I’m that guy: the one who goes to silly lengths to follow my motto of “if you’re not bothering me than I’m not bothering you,” and return such living things to the great outdoors.

Don’t tell anyone, but I’m even known around these here parts to unlatch window screens and give freedom back to flies.

So. Using a drinking glass and my coaxing skills I got this bug  safely outside and  installed on the jasmine vine near the backdoor before managing the above nice macro shot (click for the bigger picture).

Life is good.

UPDATE (10:15 a.m.): The ever-reliable bugguide.net informs me it’s a stilt bug.