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
4/29/2009
Does the cottontail rabbit remember winter when the bridal wreath bush it uses for cover again turns white?
4/28/2009
4/27/2009
Sunrise. A white moth and a white…
4/25/2009
Kitchen: wolf spider. Bathroom: silverfish. Dining room: millipede. And right above me on the porch, a gnatcatcher lands and sings.
4/24/2009
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.
4/23/2009
4/22/2009
4/21/2009
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.
4/20/2009
Hard rain with a bit of wind. But dreariness is impossible with so many variations on yellow: spicebush, forsythia, daffodils, pussy willow.