Tag Archives: cherry tree

A pair of Carolina wrens—one...

A pair of Carolina wrens—one in the lilac, the other in the dead cherry—flit from branch to branch, tasting the new-fallen snow.

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Sunny and cold. A nuthatch lands on...

Sunny and cold. A nuthatch lands on the dead cherry and begins a close inspection of the limbs, dapper as an accountant in his gray suit.

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The dead cherry has shed two more limbs...

The dead cherry has shed two more limbs, yellow stubs shining dully like the eyes of a corpse. I find a conjoined apple in the fridge.

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Coldest morning of the month so far...

Coldest morning of the month so far. I notice that each limb of the dead cherry is growing a shaggy coat of turkey-tail fungus.

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Darkening sky. A downy woodpecker gleaning...

Darkening sky. A downy woodpecker gleaning breakfast from the dead cherry’s flaking limbs pauses to scratch his face with one fast foot.

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A Carolina wren swipes its bill back...

A Carolina wren swipes its bill back and forth on the end of a dead limb, as if sharpening a knife. A groundhog sneezes in the strong sun.

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Strange morning: first a 20-MPH gust...

Strange morning: first a 20-MPH gust of wind out of a clear sky whips the treetops, then the dead cherry beside the porch fills with birds.

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Another warm morning. I realize I like...

Another warm morning. I realize I like the dead cherry because it reminds me of winter. A young robin lands on a branch with its beak open.

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A light drizzle. The one green leaf...

A light drizzle. The one green leaf at the end of a branch on the otherwise dead cherry shakes itself dry and turns back into a hummingbird.

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The dead cherry beside the porch is...

The dead cherry beside the porch is greening up, radiant with algae. I take deep lungfuls of actinomycetes spores, that odor of earth.

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