Saturday February 02, 2008

Dave Bonta February 2, 2008

I take the measure of the ice storm by ear: no cracks or crashes. The wind-rocked branches sound the way I feel—tired, creaky in the joints.

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April 25, 2017
The old cherry stump beside the porch has once again attracted a pair of nest-minded chickadees. They pop in and out of its many holes.
April 25, 2016
High clouds spread and thicken—slow yeast in a blue bowl. A hornet hovers behind my head, buzzing like an alarm clock I can't turn off.
April 25, 2015
A ruffed grouse drums and a field sparrow sings with almost the same accelerating rhythm. The hollow gurgle of the stream under the yard.
April 25, 2014
Two male flickers fighting over the dead elm and its den-hole joust in the garden, jabbing and feinting with their long bills.
April 25, 2013
A series of high-pitched howls from down in the hollow: coyotes or children? It's hard to tell. I watch a silent, nearly motionless crow.
April 25, 2012
Sun strikes the top of the tulip tree—half-grown leaves vibrating in the wind. In the road, the severed hindquarters of a rabbit.
April 25, 2011
A white haze on the bank above the road: the shadbush is finally beginning to blossom. A brown thrasher in the yard says everything twice.
April 25, 2010
Sometime past 7:30, the birds fall silent for half a minute and there's only fog, a slow drip from leaves no larger than squirrels' ears.
April 25, 2009
Kitchen: wolf spider. Bathroom: silverfish. Dining room: millipede. And right above me on the porch, a gnatcatcher lands and sings.
April 25, 2008
Black cherries leaf out before flowering, but this morning I notice three white spots in the one across the road: budding caterpillar tents.

The Morning Porch