The Morning Porch

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

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Tag Archives: garden

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Tuesday May 14, 2013

Posted by Dave Bonta

1

From the herb bed, I hear the squeaks of a hummingbird sipping from the columbine. Then he’s in my face, gorget like a small red torch.

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Tagged columbine, garden, hummingbird

May·14

Sunday May 13, 2012

Posted by Dave Bonta

1

The first purple irises are opening along the rock wall, their three petals descending like the landing gear on spaceships.

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Tagged garden, iris

May·13

Thursday April 26, 2012

Posted by Dave Bonta

5

Watched by a chipmunk at the end of the stone wall, I hold a mouthful of coffee in my cheeks, do my best to look as if I know how to live.

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Tagged chipmunks, garden

Apr·26

Monday January 30, 2012

Posted by Dave Bonta

1

Where the fresh snow has just melted on the concrete walkway, a bright green blush of lichen. The nuthatch’s three nasal notes.

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Tagged garden, nuthatch, snow

Jan·30

Saturday November 19, 2011

Posted by Dave Bonta

2

Bare ground in the herb bed has risen into spires—a city of frost. A downy woodpecker booms like a pileated on a hollow limb.

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Tagged downy woodpecker, frost, garden

Nov·19

Thursday November 10, 2011

Posted by Dave Bonta

2

A crow flies off cawing and returns silently to the same tree. In the garden, comfrey leaves have begun turning face-down into the earth.

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Tagged comfrey, crows, garden

Nov·10

Wednesday May 25, 2011

Posted by Dave Bonta

1

Coffee in my left hand, I weed the herb bed with my right, muttering at the clover: out with you, foul sweetener! as my fingers turn black.

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Tagged coffee, dirt, garden

May·25

Wednesday March 16, 2011

Posted by Dave Bonta

3

Overcast and damp. In the garden, the new leaves of lamb’s-ears look fresher than they did last fall, delicately furred, alive, alert.

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Tagged garden, lamb's-ears

Mar·16

Sunday February 20, 2011

Posted by Dave Bonta

6

A wind in the night swept the broom off the porch; I find it in the garden. A thin milk of clouds. The sun’s whiskers slowly disappear.

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Tagged garden, wind

Feb·20

Tuesday January 18, 2011

Posted by Dave Bonta

7

Fine snow blurs the edges of the porch. The feral cat has walked in her own footsteps through the garden, a clear print in each old crater.

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Tagged cats, garden, snow

Jan·18

Friday December 03, 2010

Posted by Dave Bonta

2

Tuesday’s rain still roars in the creek and gurgles under the yard. The moss garden has turned mountainous from an orogeny of ice.

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Tagged garden, moss, rain, stream

Dec·03

Thursday November 25, 2010

Posted by Dave Bonta

0

Steady rain, and the temperature just two degrees above freezing. In the herb bed, the pale blue wheel of a blossom on the invasive myrtle.

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Tagged garden, myrtle, rain

Nov·25

Wednesday October 20, 2010

Posted by Dave Bonta

0

I pick the last few unsplit witch hazel nuts in my garden, hoping I can witness their famed explosions. I line them up on top of my monitor.

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Tagged garden, witch hazel

Oct·20

Saturday October 02, 2010

Posted by Dave Bonta

0

The witch hazel in my garden is just coming into bloom, yellow tentacles uncurling, the bunched nuts like maledictions waiting to burst.

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Tagged garden, witch hazel

Oct·02

Monday September 20, 2010

Posted by Dave Bonta

0

Sitting in the garden while the porch’s new coat of paint dries, I notice the peony leaves too have turned red. A waxwing’s glossy calls.

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Tagged cedar waxwing, garden, peony

Sep·20

Tuesday September 14, 2010

Posted by Dave Bonta

0

First rays of sun on the garden, and already a monarch is drinking from the half-opened asters, orange panes of its wings trembling, aglow.

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Tagged asters, garden, monarch butterfly

Sep·14

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On this date

  • May 22, 2012
    Drizzle. Just as I get the binoculars out, the cedar waxwings all take off whistling from the tulip tree and its outrageous yellow blooms.
  • May 22, 2011
    While the catbird warbles jazz, a chipmunk skitters to a halt on the rock wall, sits back on its haunches and scratches its crotch.
  • May 22, 2010
    A dandelion-seed parachute drifting past the porch shudders, hit by a raindrop. The streambank grass ripples where a chipmunk runs.
  • May 22, 2009
    The Cooper's hawk chases a redtail out of the woods—guided missile, staccato cry—and lands in a tall yard tree. The first yellow iris.
  • May 22, 2008
    A male robin scours the forest floor for twigs; the female combs the lawn for dead grass. The small thorn bush shakes when they both fly 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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