Sunny and cold. My mother starts up the trail into the woods with her pant-legs tucked into her socks against the plague of deer ticks.
March 2009
Monday March 30, 2009
Sunday March 29, 2009
Saturday March 28, 2009
Dark morning. The fox squirrel’s tail flickers orange from the back of the big red maple whose buds have swollen into dime-sized stoplights.
Friday March 27, 2009
Thursday March 26, 2009
Wednesday March 25, 2009
A harsh cooing from the pine tree closest to the porch, like a hawk crossed with a dove. Two crows fly in, scold for a minute, and fly off.