Tag Archives: crickets

Overcast. The softly glowing reds and...

Overcast. The softly glowing reds and yellows, the hum of crickets, even the normally annoying call of a towhee all inspire nostalgia.

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Even on such a cold morning, a faint...

Even on such a cold morning, a faint hush of crickets. A cicada starts up: less a whine than a loud whisper. The slow chant of a vireo.

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The storm just past, a bald-faced hornet...

The storm just past, a bald-faced hornet flies back and forth over the flattened stiltgrass. The crickets pick up where they left off.

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A honeybee conducts a slow inspection...

A honeybee conducts a slow inspection of the porch railing, including my boots. I’m pondering the secret cousinship of wrens and crickets.

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Another cool morning. Autumn’...

Another cool morning. Autumn’s in the air, I say to myself, but it’s really just a cricket chirping in the corner of the garden.

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At 8:47, the sun puts in its first...

At 8:47, the sun puts in its first appearance. The cricket in my garden—the only weather forecast I follow—doesn’t miss a beat.

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At 42 degrees Fahrenheit, only one...

At 42 degrees Fahrenheit, only one cricket calls from the vicinity of the springhouse, a low, hollow creaking like a prolonged death rattle.

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Orion gets one leg above the trees...

Orion gets one leg above the trees before fading into the dawn. Inside, I rescue the cricket from a spider, put him out for the fourth time.

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As the plane fades in the distance,...

As the plane fades in the distance, they return: a towhee, two lethargic vireos, a chipmunk’s water-drip-steady clucks, the garden cricket.

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Would morning glories keep blooming...

Would morning glories keep blooming all summer as the wild bindweed does? This morning, four new horns fill with tree-cricket trills.

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