Skip to content

The Morning Porch/Patio

The view from my front porch (in Pennsylvania) or back patio (in London) every morning, in tweet-sized bites

  • About
  • Keyword index
  • Multimedia
  • Links
    • Via Negativa
    • Moving Poems
    • DaveBonta.com
    • Woodrat Photoblog
  • Home
  • 2015
  • November
  • Saturday November 14, 2015

Saturday November 14, 2015

Dave Bonta November 14, 2015

Between bitter gusts of wind, I hear the calls of juncos and nuthatches, chickadees and titmice, a song sparrow singing in the ditch.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged chickadee, juncos, song sparrow, tufted titmouse, white-breasted nuthatch, wind
Previous Post: Previous Post
Next Post: Next Post

Primary Sidebar

On this date

    January 24, 2019

    Yesterday it was below freezing and rained; now it's above freezing and snow is coming down: dilettantish at first, then in a mad dance. …

    January 24, 2018

    Winter's back. You can see it in the dash of snow and thick crust of clouds, hear it in the train's horn and the querulous cries of crows. …

    January 24, 2017

    ‪The black-and-white simplicity of a fairy-tale snow that clings to every dark twig: a fragile magic that never lasts beyond eleven o'clock.‬ …

    January 24, 2015

    A wet snow has turned the trees Victorian, every last twig edged with filigree. The only sound from the valley is the rumbling of trains. …

    January 24, 2014

    Another bright, frigid morning. I could get used to this light without heat, snow like a white beach, a hissing of surf from the tall pines. …

    January 24, 2013

    New snow on every twig: a strange fur, this fine, dry stuff that forms so far below freezing. A vole rustles in the leaves beside the porch. …

    January 24, 2012

    Five degrees above freezing; a steady tap of meltwater on the porch roof. Crows. A blue, eye-shaped hole in the clouds eases shut. …

    January 24, 2011

    The ugly squat burdock has a thin and graceful shadow. It inches over the snow without getting snagged by the sharp sparkles of sun. …

    January 24, 2010

    A flat white sky, against which the cackling silhouettes of pileated woodpeckers flap and dive. My nostrils prickle with the smell of rain. …

    January 24, 2009

    Treetops sway wildly at first light, squeaking and clattering. A rabbit zigzags across the yard, pausing at each dark patch of bare ground. …

    January 24, 2008

    A crow caws, and I'm struck by how much it resembles a barking dog. More crows, and the impression persists: Arf arf arf! A murder of dogs. …

Follow via Email

Get The Morning Porch delivered to your inbox every day.

Join 3,785 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/Patio. Powered by WordPress and Stargazer.