Skip to content

The Morning Porch

a hyper-local microblog

  • About
  • Keyword index
  • Multimedia
  • Links
    • Via Negativa
    • Moving Poems
    • DaveBonta.com
    • Woodrat Photoblog
  • Home
  • 2014
  • September
  • Monday September 08, 2014

Monday September 08, 2014

Dave Bonta September 8, 2014

A green darner zips back and forth, reversing direction so abruptly it looks like a jump cut. From behind the house, the burbling of a wren.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged Carolina wren, dragonflies, green darner
Previous Post: Previous Post
Next Post: Next Post

Primary Sidebar

On this date

    February 25, 2020

    The corrugated steel roof over the heating oil tanks registers a small shower I might've otherwise missed: soft taps, a scattering of dots. …

    February 25, 2019

    After a night of high winds, the forest has several new squeaks and groans, but my light-weight chair hasn't moved. I sit down warily. …

    February 25, 2018

    The rain finally stops. In the woods and yard, chipmunks zip back and forth like hyperactive exoparasites on the mountain's glistening pelt. …

    February 25, 2017

    Two song sparrows in a singing contest under dark clouds. I try to hear urgency and seriousness in their bubbly notes as the sky opens up. …

    February 25, 2015

    The sun going in and out of clouds—a chickadee's shadow vanishes half-way across the yard. I'm struggling to remember the color green. …

    February 25, 2014

    The nasal alarm calls of nuthatches, one to the south and one to the north. The sun is a yellow stain on a white tablecloth. A silent raven. …

    February 25, 2013

    The sound of a single-propeller plane—a rare thing nowadays—draws my eye to a hawk circling a thermal high over the ridge's glossy snowpack. …

    February 25, 2012

    Snow blows sideways and rises from the ground in snaky spirals. A Carolina wren dances on top of the stone wall like a wind-up toy. …

    February 25, 2011

    A thumping in the crawlspace under the house and muddy footprints in the snow: the resident woodchuck is in heat. Rain drums on the roof. …

    February 25, 2010

    A large red blot has blossomed on the garden's snow. I find tufts of silky brown fur and three drops of blood in a line toward the woods. …

    February 25, 2009

    With the sun on my face I turn my eyes into camera lenses, open, shut: half-second negatives of trees, bushes, railing. Remember this. …

    February 25, 2008

    A squirrel chased off the bird feeder races all the way to the dead elm in my yard, where it sits perfectly still for the next ten minutes. …

Follow via Email

Get The Morning Porch delivered to your inbox every day.

Join 3,797 other subscribers

Other ways to follow

  • @morningporch on Twitter
  • RSS - entries
  • RSS - comments
  • Follow on Feedly

Related book

Cover of Ice Mountain with a linocut of a big ridgetop tree.
What I do after I sit on the porch. One winter and spring's daily walks distilled into short poems with linocut illustrations by Beth Adams.

Copyleft

Creative Commons License
All works on this site by Dave Bonta are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

Header image

Detail from Paper Garden by Clive Hicks-Jenkins (used by permission)

Archives

Frequent topics

American goldfinch black birch black locust black walnut blue jays Canada geese cardinal Carolina wren catbird cherry tree chickadee chipmunks clouds cold crows deer downy woodpecker fall foliage fog frost garden gray squirrel hawks I-99 juncos lilac oaks phoebe pileated woodpecker rain raven red maple ruby-throated hummingbird snow snowflakes springhouse stream sunrise train trucks tufted titmouse tulip tree white-breasted nuthatch wind wood thrush
  • Twitter
  • Instagram
  • Flickr
  • Vimeo
  • RSS

Copyright © 2021 The Morning Porch. Powered by WordPress and Stargazer.