Monthly Archives: August 2009

The low-frequency hum of a passing...

The low-frequency hum of a passing jet vibrates the windows and the ladder’s metal rungs. A wren chatters alarm at the missing floorboards.

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A squirrel emerges from the springhouse...

A squirrel emerges from the springhouse’s tiny attic vent and slides head-first toward the ground. A patch of sun shimmers in the goldenrod.

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I glimpse the mother doe and her fawns...

I glimpse the mother doe and her fawns running just inside the woods’ edge, hear the clatter of hooves going past. A minute of almost-sun.

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Another overcast morning, with wind...

Another overcast morning, with wind and the sound of trucks out of the east. Two thrushes and a gnatcatcher move silently through the lilac.

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The low cloud ceiling is a tabula rasa...

The low cloud ceiling is a tabula rasa for the arabesques of chimney swifts. A high-pitched rasping in the trees–some insomniac katydid.

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In the light breeze, one clump of cattails...

In the light breeze, one clump of cattails waves out of sync; the sound of chewing. A few perfunctory phrases from a red-eyed vireo.

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Out around 9:00, in time to hear the...

Out around 9:00, in time to hear the dog-day cicadas start up. If it weren’t for cicadas, how would we know what the sun sounds like?

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A bristly white caterpillar on the...

A bristly white caterpillar on the freshly painted white porch railing. The sky too is white, and the lawn with its banks of snakeroot.

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Halfway up the ridge, the hectoring...

Halfway up the ridge, the hectoring alarm-calls of a squirrel. A few seconds later, a deer joins in: explosive snorts. The sun comes out.

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Below the porch, a generic chirp from...

Below the porch, a generic chirp from a warbler of indeterminate species. I remember the Central American term for such skulkers: chipes.

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