Tag Archives: snowflakes

Cold and gray—November weather...

By Dave Bonta | Published November 11, 2011 at 11:34 am

Cold and gray—November weather at last. Oak leaves twirl and somersault past the porch, accompanied by a few motes of snow.

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Heavy frost, and the bare dirt in the...

By Dave Bonta | Published March 25, 2011 at 8:46 am

Heavy frost, and the bare dirt in the garden has crystallized into icy turrets. Motes of snow float past, backlit by the sun. Robin song.

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Just audible over the wind: a junco...

By Dave Bonta | Published February 19, 2011 at 9:39 am

Just audible over the wind: a junco’s chitter. Leaves lift off from the newly melted forest floor and join a harried flock of snowflakes.

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Flakes in the air and the barest fur...

By Dave Bonta | Published January 5, 2011 at 7:36 am

Flakes in the air and the barest fur on the ground, like a leaf’s glaucous bloom. A low-key chattering match of nuthatches 100 yards apart.

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A few flakes in the air. A gray squirrel...

By Dave Bonta | Published December 25, 2010 at 8:32 am

A few flakes in the air. A gray squirrel wanders through the lilac branches, scattering a pair of juncos. The squeaky calls of finches.

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Snowflakes sail past like far-flung...

By Dave Bonta | Published December 4, 2010 at 8:21 am

Snowflakes sail past like far-flung voyagers. On the otherwise lifeless tansy stalks, a green sprig harbors a single, yolk-colored bloom.

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A scurf of snow in the north corner...

By Dave Bonta | Published November 27, 2010 at 9:26 am

A scurf of snow in the north corner of the porch, and more flakes in the wind. A chickadee puffs out its feathers, fat as a baseball.

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Wind-whipped snow. I imagine a pep-...

By Dave Bonta | Published February 10, 2010 at 9:20 am

Wind-whipped snow. I imagine a pep-talk in the cloud nursery: You’re a star! You’re unique! And no mention of gray mounds in a parking lot.

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Windy and cold. Six-legged stars bloom...

By Dave Bonta | Published January 27, 2010 at 10:31 am

Windy and cold. Six-legged stars bloom on my jeans, standing out against the faded black where the ticks of autumn had been so camouflaged.

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Fire engines wailing through the gap...

By Dave Bonta | Published February 27, 2008 at 8:01 am

Fire engines wailing through the gap, air horns, the frantic melisma of ambulances. The wind blows snow against my cheek—pinpricks of cold.

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