Thursday February 26, 2009

Dave Bonta February 26, 2009

I keep hearing fragments of song—winter wren, bluebird, song sparrow—and the usual tight flock of siskins in a walnut tree going zzzzzzip.

Previous Post: Previous Post

Next Post: Next Post

On this date

December 12, 2017
Just below freezing; the snow lays here and melts there. A flock of finches in the treetops—punctuation marks in search of a sentence. …
December 12, 2016
Yesterday's snowfall has been sleeted and rained on, turning the hollow from a soundproofed room into an echo chamber for traffic noise. …
December 12, 2014
Traffic noise blends with the ridgetop wind to form a single roar. In the thin snow behind my chair, the meandering tracks of a sparrow. …
December 12, 2013
Trees pop in the cold. I close my eyes against the sun and watch its track fade on my retina: a connect-the-dots drawing gone wrong. …
December 12, 2012
Quiet and cold at mid-morning. The sole large rhododendron up in the woods keeps gleaming and fading as the sun moves in and out of clouds. …
December 12, 2011
Gurgle of the stream in my left ear, titmice in my right. The crunch of gravel as my dad's Honda pulls up, silvery blue as new ice. …
December 12, 2010
Freezing rain and fog. Snowbirds crowd the melted tire tracks in the gravel driveway, filling their gizzards wth grit while they can. …
December 12, 2009
The wind has died at last and the sun inches through the trees, appearing to chew into each side of a fat trunk as it slides behind it. …
December 12, 2008
The world's white again: even with the wind, a thin coating of snow sticks to every icy surface. Juncos flit through clattering branches. …
December 12, 2007
Last night, I watched a meteor blaze across a hole in the white clouds. This morning, a full palette of grays. The local star peeks through. …

The Morning Porch/Patio

The view from my front porch (in Pennsylvania) or back patio (in London) every morning, in 140 or fewer characters

Thursday February 26, 2009