2/8/2018

Dave Bonta February 8, 2018

Mesmerized by the snow, after a while I forget that that steady twittering isn’t the sound the flakes make as they fall. It’s just juncos.

Previous Post: Previous Post

Next Post: Next Post

2/8/2018

October 10, 2023
Within the moon’s crescent, its dark bulk is aglow—a reminder that Earth is still, somehow, a source of light. A towhee calls twice and goes…
2/8/2018

October 10, 2022
Sunrise has been delayed by clouds, but I hold out hope. A wren tuts impatiently. A train horn blows a flat minor chord.
2/8/2018

October 10, 2021
The smell of rain without rain falling until past full daylight, and all the chirps and calls of migrants foraging and settling in to roost.
2/8/2018

October 10, 2020
Cloudy but bright. I admire the subtle colors of a jumpseed leaves: green around the veins, yellow-orange bleeding in from the edges.
2/8/2018

October 10, 2018
Endlessly flitting about the same patch of sun up in the woods, what looks like an enchanted moth must be a leaf caught by caterpillar…
2/8/2018

October 10, 2017
Before dawn, the half moon’s flat edge passing through different types of clouds like a cheese knife. The neighbor’s rooster starts to crow.
2/8/2018

October 10, 2016
A few degrees above freezing. Three titmice drop out of the sunlit oaks to investigate the dead elm, en route to a quick bath in…
2/8/2018

October 10, 2015
White-throated sparrows call among the weeds. A pine warbler yellow as a birch leaf lands on the railing next to my feet and cocks his…
2/8/2018

October 10, 2014
Now that the walnuts have all fallen, a squirrel deigns to pick one off the ground. The dogwood beside the stream pullulates with sparrows.
2/8/2018

October 10, 2013
A muffled explosion from the east: more dynamiting of the valley’s limestone. The sparrows in the lilac act like nothing happened.

Go all the way back to 2008...

The Morning Porch

Daily short takes from an Appalachian hollow

2/8/2018