When we moved to Texas, I never really expected to stay there forever; though I didn’t really expect to come back to Kansas. But things happen the way they do, so here I am now, ensconced in the largest city in Kansas. That would not be Kansas City, Topeka, or even Overland Park.

One nice thing is that housing in Wichita, Kansas is much more affordable than Austin, so we were able to rent a pretty Tudor house in an older neighborhood, twice as big as our last place for about the same price. The front garden is an interesting and overgrown mix of old-fashioned perennials like rose of Sharon, hollyhock*, and spyria, and prairie natives such as brown-eyed Susan and honeyvine milkweed. I fancy I can see the hand of more than one previous gardener here, and soon I’ll add my own signature. It will be one of many transitions that have taken place here, and I myself may only be here for one revolution around the sun before I move on.

It’s notable that these flowers still blooming in early September, along with abundant mature trees on this block, support a thriving population of birds and insects. By contrast, while Austin has done much to support their watershed, I suspect it’s their penchant for dumping pesticides widely and frequently on every outdoor surface that keeps the numbers of birds and butterflies much thinner than those in even (what passes for) the city in Kansas. It’s hard to write on my front patio, because I get interrupted so many times to take a picture of yet another lepidopteran.

I don’t even try to take pictures of birds, but today I saw starlings and house sparrows, of course, as well as native blue jays, cardinals, and a dove I had previously mostly only heard, but not seen, the mourning dove. In Strong City we had Eurasian collared doves, and in Austin we had white-winged doves. I haven’t heard the melancholy song of the mourning dove here yet, but I look forward to it. Today I also heard a crow calling, and saw what I think was a downy woodpecker.

The Mississippi kite is a new bird friend. Today they are circling their way south. It is their time of transition, too. The monarch butterfly I saw today will soon follow. The other butterflies will stay here until they perish in the winter freeze.

My own transitions, besides relocating, include reinventing my business as a massage therapist; acquainting myself with a new church family and finding what my place will be there. I’ll be picking up the violin again to play a hymn at a service for a family member who suddenly made her last transition over the weekend. Most importantly, I’ll be finding my community, my people. I don’t know who they are yet, but I know they love the earth and all the creatures, and the flowers that sing their colors to the sun for the short time they are here.

This is why I don’t take pictures of birds. Imagine you can see 5 Mississippi kites circling their way south. Question mark butterfly, Polygonia interrogationis Silver-spotted skipper, Epargyreus clarus

*I understand hollyhock isn’t technically a perennial, but if you’ve ever tried removing it from a bed, you will agree that it might as well be.