Wednesday April 27, 2016

Dave Bonta April 27, 2016

Overcast and cold. I am listening to the woodpeckers the way one listens to a marimba, savoring the varied, rich tones of dead wood.

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September 25, 2017
‪The front-porch hornets have dwindled; the new queens must've pupated and gone. The remaining workers soldier on like unRaptured Christians.‬
September 25, 2016
Clear and cold. A squirrel trots into the woods with the green globe of a walnut clenched in its teeth. The oleaginous burble of a wren.
September 25, 2015
Breezy and cool. The spider with the banded legs at the end of the porch clutches the husk of a stinkbug, rotating it, looking for morsels.
September 25, 2014
A Cooper's hawk hurtles out of the woods and alights briefly in a yard tree. The assembly-line sound of territorial chipmunks never lets up.
September 25, 2013
Just because we live here year 'round doesn't mean we don't get restless this time of year. A V of geese low over the trees, headed north.
September 25, 2012
Four bluebirds take turns checking out the empty flicker hole in the dead elm—a winter nest site, maybe? A raven flies past, croaking.
September 25, 2011
A mosquito's thin song in my ear. I wave her away, then watch as she and another tangle, part, and settle upside-down on the white ceiling.
September 25, 2010
Past 6:00, and it's still warm and cloudy. But the moon soon breaks through into good weather. As its glow dims, the breeze turns cool.
September 25, 2009
All the small birds converge on a birch tree to scold some hidden thing. It never stirs. They drift away. Sunlight settles on the leaves.
September 25, 2008
No yellow in the lilac yet, but a growing spectrum of greens. Random clatters from the new house site, where a green metal roof is going up.

The Morning Porch/Patio

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

Wednesday April 27, 2016