Tuesday May 05, 2009

Dave Bonta May 5, 2009

All these songs I haven’t heard for nine months—it’s like a recurring dream in which birds from the tropics suddenly show up in our woods.

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October 18, 2017
The builder leaves but hammering continues—a pileated woodpecker. Two chipmunks poke their heads out on either side of a rock in the wall.
October 18, 2016
White-throated sparrows move through the dead meadow, roaming musicians with one tune between them, the air above suddenly full of leaves.
October 18, 2015
The thermometer's big arrow points straight at 0°C. It was too windy for frost, but fallen red maple leaves cradle white grains of ice.
October 18, 2013
Windy and cold. A downy woodpecker works over the dead cherry, sounding like a fast hunt-and-peck typist. A towhee calls from the lilac.
October 18, 2012
Four crows around the houses are voicing loud displeasure at something or other. I hear bemusement in the croak of a raven high overhead.
October 18, 2011
Dawn: the soft wickering of a wood thrush. Three hours later: chipmunks' incessant hammers. A tiny blue wasp explores the sunlit railing.
October 18, 2010
Widely scattered drops of rain—a rustle twice as loud as it would've been a month ago. Blue jays yell back and forth about some new find.
October 18, 2009
At first light, I can't get over the strangeness of a white ground below an opaque wall of woods. It's magical, yes, but not in a good way.
October 18, 2008
First frost: a few small patches in the lowest parts of the yard. New holes in the wall of woods go from light to dark as clouds move in.

The Morning Porch/Patio