The door under the porch is ajar, as if a bear or burglar had been there. Strangled cries from overhead: a crow diving at a slow hawk.
The view from my front porch every morning, in 140 or fewer characters
Monthly Archives: September 2009
Clear and cold. I follow my breath...
Clear and cold. I follow my breath as it drifts over the ridges and valleys of the tin roof sheltering the oil tanks. A patter of acorns.
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One of the autumn grasses beloved of...
One of the autumn grasses beloved of Basho blooms an alien red at the edge of the yard. Sudden jumbled music from a V of non-migrant geese.
Some small hawk has been calling since...
Some small hawk has been calling since first light, hidden in the treetops: soft brief cries, soon joined by a chorus of its enemies.
Last night the air was warm, but the...
Last night the air was warm, but the stars gleamed like steel. This morning it’s overcast and cold. New splashes of yellow in the birches.
Tagged black birch
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I sit admiring the stillness and symmetry...
I sit admiring the stillness and symmetry of a brown moth on the freshly painted white rafters—a moth that turns out to be, alas, a leaf.
Sitting under the portico while the...
Sitting under the portico while the paint dries on the porch. The crickets sound different here. A phoebe calls for the first time in weeks.
Tagged crickets, phoebe
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Neighboring chipmunks locked in a chipping...
Neighboring chipmunks locked in a chipping contest: when one falters, the other pauses, too. The crowns of the oaks slippery with sunlight.
Tagged chipmunks
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Rain starts almost imperceptibly, thickening...
Rain starts almost imperceptibly, thickening from shimmer to mist to curtain. Early goldenrod and white snakeroot are both fading to brown.
Riddle me this: Because of the heavy...
Riddle me this: Because of the heavy acorn crop, next summer we will see more roses. And this: the oak forest moves north on corvid wings.
Tagged acorns, blue jays, deer, oaks
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