Cold air, bright sun. A song sparrow in the barberry bush sings continuously for nearly a minute—manic in a way I’ve never heard before.
February 2019
Wednesday February 27, 2019
As if in answer to the stream’s soprano babble, the bugling of migrant geese, their V breaking and rewriting itself as they pass overhead.
Tuesday February 26, 2019
As the temperature climbs above freezing, the icy surface of the snowpack loses its sheen, clouding over like the eye of a dead fish.
Monday February 25, 2019
After a night of high winds, the forest has several new squeaks and groans, but my light-weight chair hasn’t moved. I sit down warily.
Sunday February 24, 2019
Late morning and the rain stops, the fog lifts to reveal the same snow-clad mountain as before. The distant sound of an engine being revved.
Saturday February 23, 2019
Overcast. A song sparrow’s song. Chipmunks break their habitual solitude to dash across the hard snowpack, fighting, looking for mates.
Friday February 22, 2019
The sun grows and shrinks as the clouds change in thickness. Two wrens pop out at once from under the porch, one on each side—vociferous.
Thursday February 21, 2019
The remains of last night’s ice drip from the trees. A fine lacework of lilac shadow rocks back and forth beside the broken old dog statue.
Wednesday February 20, 2019
Snowstorm. A Carolina wren pokes along the side of the house under the porch roof, right above my head. Sometimes it’s good to be ignored.
Tuesday February 19, 2019
Tossing my apple core out for the squirrels, it thuds and skitters across glare ice. The usual birds with the usual calls; a bit more echo.
Monday February 18, 2019
Snowflakes blown off the roof mingle with first-time fallers. A few trees rock back and forth as if trying to rile up the crowd.
Sunday February 17, 2019
Today the icy snowpack can just support my weight. Crows down at the end of the field remind me of Twitter: two’s company, three’s a mob.
Saturday February 16, 2019
Deep blue sky. A small cloud forms right where I’m gazing. In my garden, a rock has melted the snow around it as if it’s alive.
Friday February 15, 2019
Drip and chitter: the snow is melting, and up at the other house, the birds must be finding seeds that had been buried beneath the feeders.