The Morning Porch

The view from my front porch every morning, in 140 or fewer characters

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Friday January 20, 2012

Posted by Dave Bonta

10

Cold—the porch floorboards pop under my feet. Real snow at last! The rising sun stretches two faint fingers across the driveway.

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Tagged cold, snow

Jan·20

Thursday January 19, 2012

Posted by Dave Bonta

1

Each blanketing of snow so far this winter has happened while we slept. How superstitious to insist that it all must’ve fallen from the sky!

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Tagged snow

Jan·19

Wednesday January 18, 2012

Posted by Dave Bonta

1

Trees rock and sway, infiltrated by snowflakes flying this way and that. From deep in the lilac, the wandering warble of a tree sparrow.

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Tagged snow, tree sparrow, wind

Jan·18

Tuesday January 17, 2012

Posted by Dave Bonta

1

Cold rain drips in the pre-dawn darkness. The wail of a locomotive sounds frighteningly close and full of an obscure, mechanical longing.

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Tagged rain, train

Jan·17

Monday January 16, 2012

Posted by Dave Bonta

1

My new glasses have some sort of prismatic coating. I turn my head and see a rainbow-banded sun rising east-northeast among the pines.

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Tagged pines, sun

Jan·16

Sunday January 15, 2012

Posted by Dave Bonta

1

I bring no hat brim or sunglasses to my front-porch tete-a-tete with the sun, grateful on such a cold morning for any display of warmth.

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Tagged cold, sun

Jan·15

Saturday January 14, 2012

Posted by Dave Bonta

2

An hour before dawn, the half-moon is a sideways emoticon among a scatter of bright pixels. A screensaver takes over and the yard goes dark.

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Tagged moon

Jan·14

Friday January 13, 2012

Posted by Dave Bonta

2

Wind-driven snow; I draw my hood tight. On the wall behind me, the thermometer’s big red arrow inches left like a clock running backward.

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Tagged cold, snow, thermometer, wind

Jan·13

Thursday January 12, 2012

Posted by Dave Bonta

1

Cool and damp. The low-hanging clouds catch on the treetops. Crows signal their locations with almost every wingbeat.

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Tagged crows, fog

Jan·12

Wednesday January 11, 2012

Posted by Dave Bonta

4

Hard frost, as they say—but up close, it’s spikes and needles. As if in the absence of snow the ground grows its own fur against the cold.

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Tagged frost

Jan·11

Tuesday January 10, 2012

Posted by Dave Bonta

1

My brother’s gray truck parked out front makes the house seem diminished and sad, like a boat stranded miles from the sea.

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Tagged trucks

Jan·10

Monday January 09, 2012

Posted by Dave Bonta

3

A call half-cackle, half-whinny: red-bellied woodpecker. I spot him in the sunlit crown of a locust, round red head beside a hole.

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Tagged red-bellied woodpecker

Jan·09

Sunday January 08, 2012

Posted by Dave Bonta

1

A wren sits grooming itself in the sun on the peak of the springhouse roof, fluffing out its breast feathers, probing under its wings.

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Tagged Carolina wren, springhouse

Jan·08

Saturday January 07, 2012

Posted by Dave Bonta

5

If I hold my head perfectly still, I can watch the sun move through the winter woods, climbing from limb to limb toward the untrammeled sky.

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Tagged sunrise

Jan·07

Friday January 06, 2012

Posted by Dave Bonta

3

Clear sky, bright sun, and the temperature well above freezing. A crow’s shadow scuds over what’s left of the snow like a dark promise.

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Tagged crow, snow

Jan·06

Thursday January 05, 2012

Posted by Dave Bonta

2

A steady hum of traffic from over the ridge spoils the pre-dawn quiet, just as the snow on the ground sullies the darkness.

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Tagged I-99, snow

Jan·05

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On this date

  • May 19, 2012
    Two maple keys dangle in an old spiderweb underneath the porch railing, like uneaten remnants of some unfortunate winged creature.
  • May 19, 2011
    Phoebe in the barnyard, pewee in the woods. What is it about cleared land that turns a lilting refrain into a burden, a shrill work song?
  • May 19, 2010
    Cool and quiet—a thoroughly dull morning, I'm thinking. Just then a hen turkey lands in the yard with a clamor of wings and saunters off.
  • May 19, 2009
    Strong sun, and the air so clear, I can see the tiniest floating krill. A cranefly seems enormous—until a pileated woodpecker flops in.
  • May 19, 2008
    Birdcall like the chant of some demented sports fan: the yellow-billed cuckoo is back! The forest canopy must be full enough to skulk in.

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Detail from Paper Garden by Clive Hicks-Jenkins (used by permission)

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New Year's 2011 self-portrait on the porch
on the porch, 1/1/2011
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