8/14/2010

Dave Bonta August 14, 2010

Would morning glories keep blooming all summer as the wild bindweed does? This morning, four new horns fill with tree-cricket trills.

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8/14/2010

October 23, 2023
First frost here and there like someone’s first white hairs. I crunch through it en route to the top of the field to watch the…
8/14/2010

October 23, 2022
Dawn. Low over the trees, the last sliver of moon like fangs of a snake trying to swallow a dark, glowing egg.
8/14/2010

October 23, 2021
A dark and rainy dawn. One especially well-harmonized train horn and the sparrows and wrens wake up.
8/14/2010

October 23, 2020
A sharp-shinned hawk chases a crow; the crow flies off. The hawk chases a jay; the jay chases back. What fun! thinks the jay. I’m…
8/14/2010

October 23, 2018
A swarm of maple helicopters. I sneeze and a wren begins to sing. A kinglet rotates in time to the music. We’re in this dance…
8/14/2010

October 23, 2017
Brighter color between the trees: sunrise. Gray as their trunks: a doe and her grown fawns. From down hollow, a screech owl’s trill.
8/14/2010

October 23, 2016
Cloudy and cold. The soft back-and-forth of sparrows flitting between woods and meadow. The distant keening of an ambulance.
8/14/2010

October 23, 2015
The thought-cancelling roar of military jets just over the ridge. Overhead, only a commercial jet like a mote in a clear blue eye.
8/14/2010

October 23, 2014
Back after a week away, I gaze into a grayer, more open forest. The wind makes forays to rustle in the fallen leaves. A titmouse…
8/14/2010

October 23, 2013
Cold rain. Three sparrows forage in the weeds next to a barberry bush, its green branches harboring masses of blood-red berries.

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The Morning Porch

Daily short takes from an Appalachian hollow

8/14/2010