Saturday November 16, 2013

Dave Bonta November 16, 2013

Two squirrels circle warily beside the road. A third crosses the stream with a walnut between its teeth and seeing them, takes to the trees.

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October 24, 2017
Red: berries on a leafless spicebush, gaps between segments of a curled-up black caterpillar, paint on the porch floor lifting like leaves.
October 24, 2016
Over the wind, the twittering of chickadees trailing a flock of kinglets into the birches. Two brown creepers appear on adjacent trunks.
October 24, 2015
With the walnuts bare, I can see the aspens again—now a flickering orange, like that tree in the Mabinogion burning without being consumed.
October 24, 2014
Clear and bright, but the wind still blows. The long leaves of the cattails have started to brown, their curled ends bowing toward the west.
October 24, 2013
First snow of the year: a squall of small flakes. The flamingo in the garden rapidly acquires a white shawl.
October 24, 2012
Too hot for late October. A yellowjacket circles my pale face as if looking for a paper nest. A mantis lands upside-down beside the door.
October 24, 2011
The woods are more open by the day. Three croaks from overhead: raven. The electric company's line crew arrives, red flags on their truck.
October 24, 2010
All along the ridgetop now the sky is visible, cathedral-sized windows between the trees. The throaty roar of the neighbor's pickup truck.
October 24, 2009
The low clouds are a patchwork of light and dark; the oaks change from brown to burgundy in the space of a minute. A bright curtain of rain.
October 24, 2008
A small buck wanders past, the gray-brown gleam of a November woods already in his antlers. Snowbirds in the cherry tree, their soft calls.

The Morning Porch/Patio

The view from my front porch (in Pennsylvania) or back patio (in London) every morning, in 140 or fewer characters

Saturday November 16, 2013