Monthly Archives: January 2010

How is it the stars, glittering as...

By Dave Bonta | Published January 21, 2010 at 9:08 am

How is it the stars, glittering as brightly as I’ve ever seen them, can begin to fade before the first perceptible lightening of the sky?

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Cold and clear at sunrise. Two ravens...

By Dave Bonta | Published January 20, 2010 at 9:42 am

Cold and clear at sunrise. Two ravens following the ridge croak in unison, their wings almost touching. A squirrel descends the springhouse.

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Day Six of the thaw, and the sound...

By Dave Bonta | Published January 19, 2010 at 11:20 am

Day Six of the thaw, and the sound of running water dominates the pre-dawn darkness—still faintly illuminated by the threadbare snow.

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The overcast sky looks the same, but...

By Dave Bonta | Published January 18, 2010 at 10:50 am

The overcast sky looks the same, but the light turns from glow to dull in just 15 minutes. I watch a brown creeper but hear only nuthatches.

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Fog. A distant chainsaw in one direction...

By Dave Bonta | Published January 17, 2010 at 10:16 am

Fog. A distant chainsaw in one direction and in the other, rodent teeth. Amorous squirrels race back and forth over the white ground.

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Day 3 of the thaw. A month’s...

By Dave Bonta | Published January 16, 2010 at 9:07 am

Day 3 of the thaw. A month’s worth of apple cores are beginning to surface. Inside on my computer screen, via webcam, a black bear sleeps.

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Out earlier than usual, it takes me...

By Dave Bonta | Published January 15, 2010 at 8:47 am

Out earlier than usual, it takes me much too long to understand why the cloudy sky is darker than the snow. Black coffee, enlighten me!

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Clear at sunrise, and just two degrees...

By Dave Bonta | Published January 14, 2010 at 8:45 am

Clear at sunrise, and just two degrees below freezing. A squirrel in the treetops touches its snout to the light’s leading edge.

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Quiet at mid-morning except for the...

By Dave Bonta | Published January 13, 2010 at 9:12 am

Quiet at mid-morning except for the yank, yank of a nuthatch and the creaking of trees in what feels like it could become a clearing wind.

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I can’t bring myself to sweep...

By Dave Bonta | Published January 12, 2010 at 9:54 am

I can’t bring myself to sweep the new snow off the porch—such lovely stuff! But less than a minute later, I lapse into wool-gathering.

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