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  • Wednesday November 21, 2018

Wednesday November 21, 2018

Dave Bonta November 21, 2018

A singing contest between white-throated sparrows. Newly fallen oak leaves skitter back and forth on the snow under the trees.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged oaks, snow, white-throated sparrow
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On this date

    January 23, 2020

    Sunrise: a glimpse of yellow from beneath the lid of clouds. Goldfinches flutter down to drink from the stream's thin fissure of open water. …

    January 23, 2019

    A high-pitched train horn. The yammering of a red-bellied woodpecker. Almost imperceptibly, rain begins to tap on the snowpack's icy lid. …

    January 23, 2018

    The woods after a rain, when branches have dried but trunks and limbs are still damp: kirei na kanji, as they say in Japan. A clean feeling. …

    January 23, 2017

    A small hawk flies through the forest in steady rain, perches in the crown of an oak for several minutes, and flies on. The wind picks up. …

    January 23, 2015

    White above and below. But looking more closely, I see the tracks of mice forced to leave the house to forage for weed seeds in the garden. …

    January 23, 2014

    The finest of snowflakes—little more than sparkles in the sun—drift down from an almost blue sky. The yard is a maze of deer hoof-prints. …

    January 23, 2013

    Clear and very cold. A single squirrel track crosses the yard, the footprints spaced far apart. The windward side of my face turns numb. …

    January 23, 2012

    Deer have been eating the wild rosebush again, and the yard is a maze of rabbit tracks. The fog lifts for a minute, then returns. …

    January 23, 2011

    In the bitter night, a white-footed mouse bounded unerringly from the corner of the wall to a hole 20 feet away. The snow is my newspaper. …

    January 23, 2010

    Cloudless and cold. Listening to the underground stream gurgle through a hole in the yard, I think about my Chinese teacher from long ago. …

    January 23, 2009

    A few hours above freezing yesterday, and the snowpack lost its ability to absorb sound. I sit in the dark listening to the roar of trucks. …

    January 23, 2008

    At first light, few other sounds than the fluting of doves' wings. I hold my head perfectly still to watch Venus moving through the trees. …

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Related book

Cover of Ice Mountain with a linocut of a big ridgetop tree.
What I do after I sit on the porch. One winter and spring's daily walks distilled into short poems with linocut illustrations by Beth Adams.

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