Thursday July 19, 2018

Dave Bonta July 19, 2018

The birds are mostly quiet now, breeding over—except for the robins, one of whom is chirping all ’round the suet, trying to summon a parent.

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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 July 19, 2018