3/27/2013

Dave Bonta March 27, 2013

Three pileated woodpeckers work the trees just inside the woods’ edge, inching up trunks and cocking their heads to listen before they tap.

Previous Post: Previous Post

Next Post: Next Post

3/27/2013

July 26, 2023
Rising late, I find the sun already spread out on the leaves like piecemeal linen, shining white, and the forest floor striped with shadows.
3/27/2013

July 26, 2022
It’s actually cold—54F/12C! A crow at the top of the tallest locust where the sun strikes has one thing to say and she is saying…
3/27/2013

July 26, 2021
5:15. The moon through thin clouds. A whip-poor-will’s distant chant. 9:15. The sun through thin clouds. A hummingbird’s mid-air defecation.
3/27/2013

July 26, 2016
A hummingbird buzzes below the porch, looking for the touch-me-nots that the deer have eaten. Fly on my shoe, is it everything you’d hoped?
3/27/2013

July 26, 2015
The box turtle whose territory my house happens to encroach upon sits in the driveway, yellow markings like a road sign in a foreign script.
3/27/2013

July 26, 2012
The yark, yark of ravens skimming the trees, the low cloud ceiling just above. Crushing humidity. Vegetation still drips from a dawn storm.
3/27/2013

July 26, 2011
A perfect morning, clear and cool. A gray squirrel is biting off small branches and carrying them into the thickest part of the tall locust.
3/27/2013

July 26, 2010
The small cross of a plane against the blue, its distant drone. A flicker climbing the dead elm loses his footing on a patch of…
3/27/2013

July 26, 2009
The jesters’ caps on the topheading garlic have begun to split, revealing dense clusters of miniature selves. A raven’s mechanical laughter.
3/27/2013

July 26, 2008
A crashing sound from the springhouse meadow: a pair of bucks chasing each other, frisky as fawns and neck-deep in weeds they do not eat.

Go all the way back to 2008...

The Morning Porch

Daily short takes from an Appalachian hollow

3/27/2013