5/6/2009

Dave Bonta May 6, 2009

The gray winter pelts of two grazing deer are just beginning to fray. The fog withdraws into the woods and the webs of grass spiders.

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5/6/2009

September 15, 2023
43F/6C an hour after sunrise. Not a cloud in the sky. Black walnuts crash down at random intervals.
5/6/2009

September 15, 2022
A high cloud ceiling full of holes. In the meadow, one snakeroot flower nods: hummingbird.
5/6/2009

September 15, 2021
Dawn is its own thing—not just a transition, I think, as fog forms and grows. When it lifts, the no-longer-dark meadow glows goldenrod-yellow.
5/6/2009

September 15, 2020
Weak sun. The bright blue of New York asters almost lost among the goldenrod. It takes me a moment to place a distant bird call:…
5/6/2009

September 15, 2018
It’s been 20 years since the butternut tree fell over, but I still miss it: the sky too big, too blank, the nuthatch’s call too…
5/6/2009

September 15, 2017
The corpse of a bee hangs six feet above the garden, swaddled in webbing. Inside its fence, the amelanchier sprout is starting to redden.
5/6/2009

September 15, 2016
A turkey vulture glides low over the trees, circles once to gain altitude, setting off a jay and a squirrel, and soars off down the…
5/6/2009

September 15, 2015
Sunrise stains the treetops. The woods are full of anxious-sounding calls: chipmunks, jays, nuthatches, an endlessly scolding squirrel…
5/6/2009

September 15, 2014
Droplets of fog, back-lit by the sun, stream upward into the blue like reverse rain. At the woods’ edge, a migrant phoebe clears its throat.
5/6/2009

September 15, 2013
Cold at sunrise. A pileated woodpecker hitches up the trunk of tall locust, pausing to yell when he reaches the sunlit crown.

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The Morning Porch

Daily short takes from an Appalachian hollow

5/6/2009