A whispering in the dried grass: not wind but sleet. A hawk materializes like a magician’s handkerchief and flies off through the trees.
November 2014
November 15, 2014
Cold and still. Even with no snow, the light is already wintry: low-angled, flooding the open woods, illuminating the wings of small birds.
November 14, 2014
A titmouse taps in the rain gutter, its absurd crest buffeted by the wind. Scattered snowflakes dart this way and that as if on a mad hunt.
November 13, 2014
Cold, overcast and still. Two song sparrows with markedly different regional accents sing back and forth across the road.
November 12, 2014
Overcast and cold. On the south side of the house, an aster is still in bloom, its small constellation trembling in the wind.
November 11, 2014
Sunlight glistens on the ground where pockets of frost have melted and slides across a length of spider silk drifting through the yard.
November 10, 2014
Bands of cirrus that might’ve been contrails two hours ago are crossed by a helicopter, ponderous and loud, like an enormous scarab.
November 9, 2014
Siskins like moveable leaves in a bare birch. A squirrel chiseling a skull-hard walnut falls silent when it reaches the soft cerebrum.
November 8, 2014
A skim of snow on the springhouse roof glows faintly blue under the blue sky. The sun turns the old, limp lilac leaves into stained glass.
November 7, 2014
Over the wind, a faint music, as if from a distant woodwinds section: silhouetted against a cloud, a south-bound V of tundra swans.
November 6, 2014
Rain and fog. A dead branch gives way under the weight of seven jays, who fly up screaming as it crashes to the ground.
November 5, 2014
An inversion layer brings freight train and traffic noise to mix with rustling leaves, crow scold-calls, a chipmunk’s metronome. My music.
November 4, 2014
Warmer and overcast. The silhouettes of small birds feeding gregariously in the top of a black birch—goldfinches, I realize when they fly.
November 3, 2014
The wind has stripped the treetops of most remaining leaves, flooding them with light. I watch the sine-wave flight of a far-off woodpecker.