April 2011

The French lilac, backlit by the sun, shimmers like a bright green sail against the still-open woods. A field sparrow’s rising trill. * This will be the last new update […]

Two squirrels grappling or grooming on a thin tulip poplar branch, among nubbins of new leaves. One slips and falls 30 feet to the ground.

Up in the field, a turkey erects his traveling theater and poses for an audience of two. The first hummingbird hovers in front of my face.

A song so familiar it takes several minutes to register that this is new, the first I’ve heard it since last fall: common yellowthroat.

Thanks to insomnia, I have two mornings: one with ground fog lit by the waning moon at dawn, the other hot and abuzz with carpenter bees.

A white haze on the bank above the road: the shadbush is finally beginning to blossom. A brown thrasher in the yard says everything twice.

Peonies have broken ground: skinny red claws reaching for the light. The whining clucks of a hen turkey separated from the flock.