Tuesday April 09, 2013

Dave Bonta April 9, 2013

A wild turkey gobbling on the far ridge. Two field sparrows trade calls, notes rising as they accelerate like engines being revved up.

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The cold rain continues, now misting, now pouring. Beds of moss in the woods begin to look luxurious. Everywhere the sound of running water. …

‪So many chipmunks are racing about at the woods' edge that after watching them for a while, I begin to feel itchy. A crow clears its throat.‬ …

Bright and cold. Gusts of wind sweep the snow off branches—ghosts among the trees. A jet's vestigial contrail briefly underlines the sun. …

In the silence after the bulldozer stops, a song sparrow sings his lying spring song over and over. A gauze of stratus cloud dims the sun. …

The Carolina wren doesn't rise till 9:23. He hops out from under the house, flutters up to the porch and flies into the lilac to sing. …

A killdeer's song drifts down from high overhead, and to the south, the piping of a ragged flock of geese struggling against the high winds. …

Backlit by the sun, a hoarfrosted forest with ice still glittering underneath. I gape and run for my camera, a tourist on my own porch. …

Thick fog prolongs the early-morning light for hours. The cardinal sings spring while a screech owl quavers over the luminous snow. …

Sun shining through thin clouds and wind-blown snow. A great wave of happiness sweeps past. In the barberry bush, a cardinal begins to sing. …

After three months of being written about daily, the world glimpsed from my porch seems more recondite than ever. Slow diatoms of snow. …

The Morning Porch/Patio