Thursday June 14, 2018

Dave Bonta June 14, 2018

Bright spots in the clouds disappear as quickly as they appear. Fire siren. A magpie rattles at the wind.

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October 23, 2017
Brighter color between the trees: sunrise. Gray as their trunks: a doe and her grown fawns. From down hollow, a screech owl's trill.
October 23, 2016
Cloudy and cold. The soft back-and-forth of sparrows flitting between woods and meadow. The distant keening of an ambulance.
October 23, 2015
The thought-cancelling roar of military jets just over the ridge. Overhead, only a commercial jet like a mote in a clear blue eye.
October 23, 2014
Back after a week away, I gaze into a grayer, more open forest. The wind makes forays to rustle in the fallen leaves. A titmouse scolds.
October 23, 2013
Cold rain. Three sparrows forage in the weeds next to a barberry bush, its green branches harboring masses of blood-red berries.
October 23, 2012
A series of loud sneezes from the dead goldenrod at the woods' edge where a deer must be bedded down. A junco forages in the stiltgrass.
October 23, 2011
Two pileated woodpeckers forage in the birches, scarlet crests glowing in the sun, the sky below them in the windshield of a parked truck.
October 23, 2010
Mid-morning: the first patch of blue, little larger than a moon. In the old lilac below the other house, a Carolina wren bursts into song.
October 23, 2009
In the middle of a still morning, a strange enthusiasm suddenly infects the birds, flitting, calling, gleaning, grooming, under a dull sky.
October 23, 2008
Four chickadees glean frozen bugs from one skinny branch of the dead elm. Through newly porous trees, a 30-second glimpse of the rising sun.

The Morning Porch/Patio

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

Thursday June 14, 2018