This striking insect is an Asian tiger mosquito,
Aedes albopictus. My photo is of a male feeding on goldenrod nectar. (In 2007, an entomology professor at OSU told me this was the first he had seen of a tiger mosquito on a flower.) The females love human elbows and the tender backs of knees. I’m glad I haven’t encountered them outside of the yard. (none at Darby Creek) Unlike our traditional bloodsuckers who gear up mainly at dusk and dawn, Aedes are out eating all day - No crepuscular discretion here. I assume natural predators and our native mosquitoes still squeeze out the tiger mosquitoes in wilder places, but here in the suburbs tigers rule.
I blame the neighbor (again) for standing water in clogged gutters, though you might think the roots of sapling trees growing in those gutters would have soaked up any water.
Speaking of blood loss, I enjoy sharing this bit:
One fine day at our compost bin, I encountered a “gallinipper” mosquito,
Psorophora ciliata. Looking like an elongated deer fly wearing golden pipe-cleaner legs, it glittered in the sun as it pierced my arm. - This may explain my fear of gold jewelry and glittery greeting cards. - I brushed it off and scurried away. Huge for a mosquito, the dangling legs made it seem the size of a large paper wasp. It chased me onto the deck! I swatted at it, and it tumbled backward then righted itself (reminding me of an old cartoon hornet) and came straight for my throat!
My tomcat and I fled into the house, gasping and wide-eyed. (We looked at each other and promptly agreed never to discuss the incident.)
In hindsight, I would have grabbed that sucker by the proboscis and at least captured a photo. Now I’m sad - I was possibly her last attempt at a good meal on the southwest side, and my memory of a sore and swollen forearm has faded. Also, her larvae would have destroyed the more prosperous tiger mosquitoes. So if you ever see a glorious gallinipper, catch it for me - I want to train it to be a guard mosquito.
TIP: Avoid breeding mosquitoes in your yard by making sure there is
no standing water (for more than a few days) in pots, dishes, statues, crevices, frisbees... Even when turned upside down, the lip of a trashcan or baby pool can hold enough water to be beachfront property for some mosquitoes. Natural repellents for your skin containing eucalyptus and lemongrass oil seem to work.
But sometimes it's better to be out on your own. These are Milkweed Bug nymphs. I shouldn't hazard a guess as to which kind of milkweed bug, but they're either the small, large, or red ones. They'll grow rapidly and winter as adults. These nymphs could be saying "We know we're cute, and toxic." (Just like gummy bears.)
Here’s one little critter whose camouflage fooled me: a small orb weaver spider sometimes called “Trashline Orbweaver," genus Cyclosa (turbinata species?). I had ignored these small webs for I don’t know how long because they appear abandoned, displaying only a string of debris, (which also looks like small bird droppings.) Recently I was gazing out from my trusty deck lounger and saw the center of one such string of detritus dart out and make an adjustment - or maybe a catch - and in the next instant was back in line, blending completely. The web decorations, or "stabilimenta" (Why do I want to say that word with an Italian accent?) of these spiders are made with leftover bug parts, and also the spiders’ egg sacs, for camouflage or possibly to attract more bric-a-brac snacks (flies and mosquitoes, I hope.)
After consulting three guides I'm still not certain which wasp this is, but it appears most likely to be a ... Blue Mud Dauber, Chalybion californicum (Isn't that a Red Hot Chili Peppers song?) and not a Steel-Blue Cricket Hunter, Chlorion aerarium. It is one of the solitary hunting wasps in the family known as Thread-waisted Wasps. (I'd be thread-waisted too if I stocked only spiders or crickets in the pantry.)
Inside this jewelweed/ touch-me-not bloom, (Impatiens capensis), there’s a vile earwig who looks like he’s sleeping off a rough night. Probably seems like a perfect fit to him, like mini-motel sleeping quarters. Unpleasant for the hummingbird who flies up and sticks her tongue in for nectar. (Although not such a bad way for the earwig to wake up.)
This bee-autiful insect is a Tiger Bee Fly, Xenox tigrinus. When I first saw one of these I thought it was a horse fly just because of size. I am happy to report these are harmless to humans, and they prey on carpenter bees! (for larval feeding) Not that I don't love the antics of carpenter bees (seriously), but we have more and more each year and I'm afraid by now they must have a ten-foot gallery in the trim on the back of the house.
This striking insect is an Asian tiger mosquito, Aedes albopictus. My photo is of a male feeding on goldenrod nectar. (In 2007, an entomology professor at OSU told me this was the first he had seen of a tiger mosquito on a flower.) The females love human elbows and the tender backs of knees. I’m glad I haven’t encountered them outside of the yard. (none at Darby Creek) Unlike our traditional bloodsuckers who gear up mainly at dusk and dawn, Aedes are out eating all day - No crepuscular discretion here. I assume natural predators and our native mosquitoes still squeeze out the tiger mosquitoes in wilder places, but here in the suburbs tigers rule.
And of course the colors of the changing season: My favorite is the nannyberry, Viburnum lentago, (I must confess to occasional watering to try to keep it happy.)
These photos are of a similar robber fly, Diogmites neoternatus, who took a swim in our pool two years ago. (Use Baquacil pool chems, not chlorine) I netted this surprising two-inch creature from the water and placed it in a pot, thinking it was dead. Later I was startled to see it sitting next to me on the deck. (I thought the slouched posture was a hangover from drinking swimming pool water, but turns out they always look like that.)
The arch on center of this flower is a tiny caterpillar in disguise. (emerald moth larva, I believe.) You probably wouldn't notice this caterpillar unless you sat down next to a flower and stared at it for a bit. The caterpillars attach pieces of flower blooms to themselves to hide from predators. These are on Rudbeckia (black-eyed Susan) in a bucket on our deck. I started watching one of the larva about ten days ago. At first he was only wearing seeds, but maybe feeling violated because I touched him, the next day he was wearing pieces of petal (which looked like a skirt of potato chips.) I had great difficulty getting clear photos because - in addition to being quite small - these guys shake and twitch when threatened, maybe to appear more like debris blowing in a sometimes non-existent breeze. (That odd blowing motion is how I first noticed this type of cat on an agastache bloom a few years ago.) 
