The Morning Porch/Patio

Thursday January 17, 2019

Dave Bonta January 17, 2019 0

Gloomy, but the birds seem excited, perhaps sensing an approaching storm. A titmouse fleeing a fight lands on a maple limb red with fungus.

Dave Bonta January 16, 2019 0

A dusting of fresh graupel, and more flying past: like large grains of salt, or snowflakes which, tragically, are in no way unique.

Dave Bonta January 15, 2019 0

Wandering tracks of sparrows and juncos in the snow below the porch. Beyond that, bare patches pawed open by hungry deer in the night.

Dave Bonta January 14, 2019 0

Low sun on snow—even the shadows glitter. I’m feeling creaky, like the labored wingbeats of a dove starting up from the water.

Dave Bonta January 13, 2019 0

Woodpeckers big and small are tapping on trees without disturbing the snow on every branch. Hibernating insects will never hear the knock.

Dave Bonta January 12, 2019 0

As bright as the sun seems, shining through thin cloud, there are almost no shadows. A song sparrow sits in a spicebush, looking all around.

Dave Bonta January 11, 2019 2

A new addition to the forest’s ensemble of creaks. The drumming of two pileated woodpeckers a quarter mile apart, fast as machine gun fire.

Dave Bonta January 10, 2019 0

The top of a dying red maple has been blown down across my walk. The wind raises a zombie army of leaves to go staggering over the snow.

Dave Bonta January 9, 2019 0

Snowflakes streaming past the house like commuters, the sun almost out, the meadow’s white fur from last night’s cold front almost all gone.

Dave Bonta January 8, 2019 1

Last night’s ice has melted, but the rain continues. A song sparrow sits in the barberry bush, gorging, emitting a chirp after each berry.