Snow mixed with sleet. The feral balloons have wrapped themselves more tightly around their tree—a classic trade of freedom for security.
March 2019
3/30/2019
Distant gunshots from the shooting range in the valley. The impression of rising excitement in a field sparrow’s song.
3/29/2019
Warmish and rainy. From the valley to the east: a great blue heron with its sword-blade wings, its spring-loaded neck. A killdeer’s call.
3/28/2019
Gnats are flying, and I think about the first insects, 340 million years before flowers—an alien earth preserved in these very hills.
3/27/2019
The snowbank has shrunk to the size of a dog curled up on the dead grass. A tom turkey lets loose with his lust-gargle, his aggressive ache.
3/26/2019
After a cold night, the gift of clarity: a mote of drifting cattail down visible at 100 yards. A raven croaking on high is echoed by a crow.
3/25/2019
Trapped in a tree, two balloons bearing a picture of a basketball and the name of a school west of Pittsburgh rub their Mylar skins together.
3/24/2019
Sun through thin clouds—dim as a lizard’s third eye. A red-tailed hawk drifts past without flapping.
3/23/2019
Deep blue sky. The distant rumble of a freight train heading west. The one remaining snowbank in the yard looks permanent as marble.
3/22/2019
The banks of moss above the road shine bright after last night’s rain. Two chickadees sing their spring songs as snowflakes fill the air.
3/21/2019
Dull light through a heavy cloud ceiling. A red-bellied woodpecker and mourning dove take turns calling, first dirge, then ululation.
3/20/2019
A Carolina wren yells from the balustrade while his mate rummages around inside the old hornets’ nest. The sky slowly turns white.
3/19/2019
Warm enough for a ladybug to walk at half speed. The distant croak of a raven. A cloud comes over the ridge, towing its shadow.
3/18/2019
Not as cold today—nor as loud, the main pulse of meltwater having passed. I watch a pair of amorous nuthatches flit from tree to tree.