The first purple irises are opening along the rock wall, their three petals descending like the landing gear on spaceships.
The view from my front porch every morning, in 140 or fewer characters
Tag Archives: garden
Watched by a chipmunk at the end of...
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.
Also tagged chipmunks
5 Comments
Where the fresh snow has just melted...
Where the fresh snow has just melted on the concrete walkway, a bright green blush of lichen. The nuthatch’s three nasal notes.
Bare ground in the herb bed has risen...
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.
Also tagged downy woodpecker, frost
2 Comments
A crow flies off cawing and returns...
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.
Also tagged comfrey, crows
2 Comments
Coffee in my left hand, I weed the...
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.
Overcast and damp. In the garden, the...
Overcast and damp. In the garden, the new leaves of lamb’s-ears look fresher than they did last fall, delicately furred, alive, alert.
Also tagged lamb's-ears
3 Comments
A wind in the night swept the broom...
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.
Also tagged wind
6 Comments
Fine snow blurs the edges of the porch...
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.
Also tagged cats, snow
7 Comments
Tuesday’s rain still roars in...
Tuesday’s rain still roars in the creek and gurgles under the yard. The moss garden has turned mountainous from an orogeny of ice.
