A fresh cement of wintry mix traversed by chipmunks, tails italic with urgency. Ice-coated branches rock in the wind—a cellophane sound.
The view from my front porch every morning, in 140 or fewer characters
Tag Archives: icestorm
Dim sun. Trunks and branches still...
Dim sun. Trunks and branches still sheathed in ice glisten, surrounded by duller companions like glitterati on the streets of New York.
The rain has stopped; the forest cracks...
The rain has stopped; the forest cracks and crashes. Fallen branches ring the dead cherry, each bearing a row of broken teeth.
Also tagged cherry tree, freezing rain
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The sleet whose ticking woke me at...
The sleet whose ticking woke me at 6:00 has stopped. Five degrees below freezing. I stick out my arm and hear raindrops hitting my sleeve.
Also tagged freezing rain, sleet
2 Comments
The predicted icestorm has yet to start...
The predicted icestorm has yet to start. Long minutes pass between the distant noise of engines. A raven croaks. The stream’s slow trickle.
Riddle me this: no snow fell here,...
Riddle me this: no snow fell here, but the ground is white. The trees with their thin coats of ice creak and clatter in the darkness.
Also tagged sleet
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