When I stop to admire the red columbine in my garden, a female cardinal bursts from the cedar tree, her half-built nest inches from my ear.
April 2009
April 29, 2009
Does the cottontail rabbit remember winter when the bridal wreath bush it uses for cover again turns white?
April 28, 2009
April 27, 2009
Sunrise. A white moth and a white… April 26, 2009
April 25, 2009
Kitchen: wolf spider. Bathroom: silverfish. Dining room: millipede. And right above me on the porch, a gnatcatcher lands and sings.
April 24, 2009
The bottom half of the porcupine-girdled cherry tree is in bloom; the top is lifeless. You’d think the news would travel from the ground up.
April 23, 2009
April 22, 2009
April 21, 2009
Crows mobbing an owl, the sun breaking through clouds, a field sparrow’s cup filling to the brim… April is still an unknown country to me.
April 20, 2009
Hard rain with a bit of wind. But dreariness is impossible with so many variations on yellow: spicebush, forsythia, daffodils, pussy willow.