Saturday November 03, 2018

Oak leaves that turned brown just a few days ago already rattle instead of rustling. A hunter in gray camouflage emerges from the woods.

On this date

Cloudy and cool. A hummingbird buzzes in, and I wonder if she's the same one I saw in the woods yesterday sitting on a branch, almost still. …

Cool and breezy. A fly with a blue abdomen and golden thorax, first spotted yesterday, returns for further exploration of my partner's knee. …

Another perfect morning. A hummingbird lifts off from the bergamot, tailed closely by a moth. The quiet, anxious calls of a titmouse. …

A phoebe flies back and forth between the sunlit treetops, criss-crossing the moon. I can hear the clicks of its bill as it catches insects. …

A large praying mantis at the edge of the porch, near where I sit, turns its head to watch me with unblinking, space-alien eyes. …

The storm just past, a bald-faced hornet flies back and forth over the flattened stiltgrass. The crickets pick up where they left off. …

Would morning glories keep blooming all summer as the wild bindweed does? This morning, four new horns fill with tree-cricket trills. …

Thin fog. Now that the phoebes have left, their shy cousins the pewees have come out of the woods, and herald each sunrise in a slow drawl. …

Sunrise comes with a soundtrack of grinding and beeping from the quarry to our east. Right below the railing, goldenrod bobs: a winter wren. …

The Morning Porch