9/9/2014

Dave Bonta September 9, 2014

A pileated woodpecker comes yammering into the treetops and proceeds to groom, his clown-red crest flashing as he scratches under his wing.

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9/9/2014

May 12, 2023
A turkey hunter’s pickup rumbles past. The moon pale as a glowworm glimmers in the treetops as a whippoorwill clears his throat.
9/9/2014

May 12, 2021
The light this morning is so crystalline, the new leaves so intensely green, it’s no surprise to hear the year’s first oriole—that song.
9/9/2014

May 12, 2020
Through the warm sun and the cold wind, hummingbirds come and go. I squint at the trees, trying to tell if the leaves are any…
9/9/2014

May 12, 2019
A flock of warblers at the woods’ edge in the pouring rain: flashes of redstart, cerulean, black-and-white. A singing black-throated green.
9/9/2014

May 12, 2016
Overcast enough that the wood thrushes are still singing at mid-day. The cloying scent of cypress spurge wafts over from my weedy herb bed.
9/9/2014

May 12, 2015
A box turtle plods across the yard, the markings on its shell as bright as fresh graffiti. A bluebird scratches behind his ear like a…
9/9/2014

May 12, 2014
The old crabapple tree next to the springhouse has pulled it off again, blossoming wildly. The catbird scat-sings from its purple depths.
9/9/2014

May 12, 2013
The red porch floor is pocked with yellowish green pollen. In the garden, a red crabapple petal is plastered to a witch hazel leaf.
9/9/2014

May 12, 2012
A muffled knocking from inside the dead elm. A flicker’s head pops out of a hole and flings a billful of wood chips into the…
9/9/2014

May 12, 2010
Two grackles appear at the woods’ edge, iridescent black against the brightest green of the year. In the garden, the first yellow iris.

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The Morning Porch

Daily short takes from an Appalachian hollow

9/9/2014