Wednesday November 29, 2017

The hiss of the wind. Oak leaves scud above the treetops in one direction while juncos and sparrows move through the weeds in the other.

On this date

Cool morning. The melancholy sweetness of a wood thrush song. At the woods’ edge, the small black cherry has gone to bloom. …

A hawthorn blooming at the woods' edge glows each time the sun comes out. A scarlet tanager calls just beyond: that plucked banjo string. …

Breezy and cool. The yard rings with oriole song. A Cooper's hawk skims the treetops, wings lit up by the rising sun. …

Few bird calls are audible above the hush of rain falling on new leaves. White lilac and bridal wreath flower heads droop, turning brown. …

Momentary things: A chipmunk pressing the rain from its fur. The swaying of a branch from which a grackle has just taken flight. …

The chickadees take turns carrying insects into their hole, bold, ignoring my presence a few feet away. From the hidden chicks, nary a peep. …

A pileated woodpecker lands on the dead elm right beside the flicker den hole and knocks twice. A flicker pokes her head out. He flies off. …

A breeze stirs the tulip tree from top to bottom, its four-fingered mitts rocking, cautious as the queen of England's white-gloved wave. …

The clouds finally thin out at mid-morning. An orange skipper passes over the thin-bladed grass to settle on the sunny half of a dock leaf. …

A female indigo bunting drops into the cherry tree to snack on tiny tent caterpillars, reaching daintily into their vase-shaped nest. …

Sun! I hear the crow that thinks it's a duck, a catbird's simultaneous translation of a wood thrush song. Last night, I dreamed of bluejays. …

The Morning Porch