In the cool heat of late evening the soil is breaking open, but the bumblebees are still working, the butterflies diving, the hummingbird moths pulsing. Near the dripping garden hose a baby mourning dove holds so still that for ten minutes I think it's mulch. I place milkweed leaves inside a rearing tank as the caterpillars quickly crowd over. A cicada scratches its call into the air while haze mutes the sunset. The wind is so still I can feel everything waking again in the brief moment before night.