Humid, overcast and cool. I study the flamboyant gestures of certain meadow plants already more than half-way dead. A fat beetle flies past.
August 2021
August 29, 2021
Almost fall. The motherless fawn running out of the woods has lost its spots but not its cloud of flies.
August 28, 2021
The fog slowly lifts, except where it’s been trapped by funnel spider webs. The cardinal’s cheer seems a bit misplaced.
August 27, 2021
Fog. A quiet gurgle from the stream, still digesting last night’s downpour. The only other song belongs to a vireo.
August 26, 2021
Ten minutes till sunrise. The gibbous moon is losing its glow like a guitar pick thrown from a stage.
August 25, 2021
In the dawn light, a hummingbird double-checks that I’m not a flower, hovering over my head like a wild thought.
August 24, 2021
A stratum of sunlit leaves forming in the forest understory. A cicada wakes up. Under the house, something coughs.
August 23, 2021
The meadow and its crickets. The full moon emerges from the clouds upside-down in every drop of dew.
August 22, 2021
A few minutes after moonset, and the ground fog is still aglow. A screech owl’s monotone trill.
August 21, 2021
Sun in the trees and a small spot of orange beside the porch: a Mexican sunflower blooming despite having twice been dinner for a groundhog.
August 20, 2021
Cardinal joined by a whippoorwill. The white shapes in the yard turn out to be snakeroot.
August 19, 2021
Breezy with sometime sunshine. A hummingbird’s buzz grows louder as she hovers in front of a window, bill to bill with an unexpected rival.
August 18, 2021
Rain and warblers. An earth-shaking blast from the quarry two miles away. The soft susurrus of tree crickets.
August 17, 2021
Sunrise hidden by clouds. Towhee and cardinal’s usual soliloquies. A mosquito sings her need into my ear.