Tuesday October 25, 2016

Dave Bonta October 25, 2016

The wind persists, and now that the walnut trees are bare I can see the aspens by the marsh, their perpetually agitated crowds yellowing up.

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October 22, 2017
There's a new hole in the hornets' nest—flying squirrel? The scarlet oak we transplanted from the woods years ago is starting to color up.
October 22, 2016
Snowflakes backlit by the sun. Unlike rain they don't just fall; they fly. A strip of bark is draped over a birch twig like a spare tie.
October 22, 2015
Breezy and warm. A tulip-tree samara helicopters past the porch. In one of the bare birches, a single katydid plays his worn rasp.
October 22, 2013
Cloudy and brisk; the woods are full of falling leaves. A sharp-shinned hawk flaps and glides just above the treetops, heading south.
October 22, 2012
A breeze carries leaves from the dark woods to spiral down into the sunlit yard. A deer feeds on the lilac—the only remaining greenery.
October 22, 2010
Halfway to the ground, a locust leaf reverses course and heads for the sky. The cattails whisper, a restive crowd, but the sun never comes.
October 22, 2009
The crown of an oak that was green on Tuesday now glows orange in the sun. Every breeze shakes a fleet of helicopters out of the tulip tree.
October 22, 2008
Quiet except for the wail of an eastbound freight: Grazierville. Tyrone. Plummer's Hollow. Then wind and darkness, coffee bitter in my cup.

The Morning Porch/Patio