Snow mixed with sleet. The feral balloons have wrapped themselves more tightly around their tree—a classic trade of freedom for security.
March 2019
Saturday March 30, 2019
Distant gunshots from the shooting range in the valley. The impression of rising excitement in a field sparrow’s song.
Friday March 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.
Thursday March 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.
Wednesday March 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.
Tuesday March 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.
Monday March 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.
Sunday March 24, 2019
Sun through thin clouds—dim as a lizard’s third eye. A red-tailed hawk drifts past without flapping.
Saturday March 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.
Friday March 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.
Thursday March 21, 2019
Dull light through a heavy cloud ceiling. A red-bellied woodpecker and mourning dove take turns calling, first dirge, then ululation.
Wednesday March 20, 2019
A Carolina wren yells from the balustrade while his mate rummages around inside the old hornets’ nest. The sky slowly turns white.
Tuesday March 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.
Monday March 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.