A slate-gray sky. From the birdfeeder up at my parents’ house, the sound of squabbling crowds, pushy as bargain shoppers ahead of the sleet.
November 2008
Saturday November 29, 2008
Friday November 28, 2008
Thursday November 27, 2008
Wednesday November 26, 2008
Enough snow now to make the ground a blank page for the calligraphy of weeds and the meandering tracks of birds, the prints of their wings.
Tuesday November 25, 2008
Two inches of fresh snow, and already the black cat is taking a shit in the middle of the driveway. Small pink clouds clutter up the sky.
Monday November 24, 2008
Sunday November 23, 2008
Saturday November 22, 2008
Snowflakes in the air: the small, light variety that fall at ten degrees below freezing. They drift sideways, glistening in the sun.
Friday November 21, 2008
Thursday November 20, 2008
Cold, gray, and windy, with a new half-inch of snow. The only flicker of warmth is a chickadee’s call—the pilot light in a stone-cold oven.
Wednesday November 19, 2008
Clear sky, and the meadow white with frost: an almost-winter morning. Juncos forage at the edge of the woods, wings flashing in the sun.