Friday March 22, 2019

Dave Bonta 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.

Previous Post: Previous Post

Next Post: Next Post

Unseasonably warm. A bluebottle fly descends a porch column as slowly as a sleepwalker. A bit of cattail down drifts back and forth. …

Bird tracks in the snow next to the house like meandering lines of cuneiform verse, breaking off at odd points where something took flight. …

The wind that shook the house all night has dwindled to an occasional gust. An inch of snow plasters the porch and the east sides of trees. …

High winds and a skim of snow like mildew on the ground. Trees overcome their aversion to touch, twist in a hambone dance of sapless limbs. …

Cold (-6C). The wind drives pin-pricks of snow against my cheek. I squint at the sun through bare oak branches. It's good to be back. …

An oak leaf wanders into the yard, resting in the lee of a snowdrift on its five curled tips before cart-wheeling off into the field. …

The ballyhooed snowstorm begins slowly: temperature above freezing, and just a few, insouciant flakes melting on contact with the bare road. …

A squirrel climbs the elm with a mouthful of dried leaves, goes into the old flicker hole and turns to face out, ready for other contenders. …

Clear, cold and windy. A turkey vulture slides sideways above the trees, rocking on its rigid wings like a catamaran crossing a rough sea. …

A squirrel bounds over the snow with a newly disinterred walnut in its teeth. Behind it in the yard, a neat hole ringed with pieces of husk. …

A groundhog emerges from the culvert and rears up to survey a route to the next female's burrow. His head swivels, following a noisy crow. …

Clear, cold, and very quiet. A distant train whistle is picked up and repeated by a screech owl. The incremental progress of the moon. …

The Morning Porch