Overhead, wispy mare’s tails, and on the patio, drifts of feathers where a wood pigeon met its end—undoubtedly the work of a cat.
Saturday September 14, 2019
On a clear, still morning, the wren sounds especially bell-like. A second-floor window opens. I pull my hat-brim down against the sun.
Friday September 13, 2019
Sunny and cool, with the only contrails for clouds. Four goldfinches glimpsed out of the corner of my eye look like leaves gusting overhead.
Thursday September 12, 2019
Blue seams open and close in the clouds. I remember the view from the plane, that shining white carpet into which we sank.
Wednesday September 11, 2019
Back from holiday. A house across the way has sprouted all the impedimenta of a loft conversion: scaffolding, plastic, a roof over the roof.
Monday September 02, 2019
Four coal tits huddled in the elder tree take turns feeding at the suet balls. Two gardens away, a boy sings a taunting song in Portuguese.
Sunday September 01, 2019
A blue eye opens and closes in the middle of a cumulus cloud. A cabbage white butterfly lands on the unkillable buddleia on the shed roof.
Saturday August 31, 2019
Breezy and cool. A coal tit pulls a seed from the tube feeder and carries it up to a branch to hammer it open, wedged between her feet.
Friday August 30, 2019
The air is autumnal and smells of cigarettes. My partner talks politics in her night clothes. The rose bush is covered with new buds.
Thursday August 29, 2019
Cool and very clear. Even the jet thundering overhead looks porcelain. A small wasp is examining the undersides of the mock orange leaves.