Sunday April 17, 2016

Dave Bonta April 17, 2016

The raspy call of a red-winged blackbird, rare visitor to the mountain. A lone Canada goose goes over, honking steadily. The sun comes up.

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April 21, 2017
‪A red-tailed hawk flies just inside the woods' edge, past the birches with their catkins and the rambling old lilac just coming into bloom.‬
April 21, 2016
Just-opened leaves on the big tulip poplar, as absurdly small as the unicycles ridden by circus bears. Wind rustles in the dry forest floor.
April 21, 2015
A red-tailed hawk struggles to stay aloft against the wind. A spit of rain. Then the clouds disappear as quickly as yesterday's hail stones.
April 21, 2014
Sunny and warm. A goldfinch drops down among the black currant bushes with their half-open leaves to dip her bill into the sky-blue stream.
April 21, 2013
A towhee sits on a high branch at sunrise, his breast puffed out against the cold. His rufous feathers briefly match the color of the ridge.
April 21, 2012
A metallic green jumping spider, moving slowly in the morning cool, climbs from my green shirt sleeve to the green spine of my book.
April 21, 2011
Even the invaders' spring is late: barberry, lilac, multiflora rose just now leafing out, the hated myrtle purpling what used to be a lawn.
April 21, 2010
A scarlet bough at the woods' edge: I peer through binoculars at the first red maple keys. Deer straggle by in their ragged spring coats.
April 21, 2009
Crows mobbing an owl, the sun breaking through clouds, a field sparrow's cup filling to the brim... April is still an unknown country to me.
April 21, 2008
Shrill chirps of a truck going in reverse. Under a lowering sky, daylight seeps from the jagged blaze of forsythia at the edge of the woods.

The Morning Porch

The view from my front porch every morning in 140 or fewer characters

Sunday April 17, 2016