Sunday July 17, 2022

Another phantom shower, existing only on the weather app. A firefly wanders past, looking for a walnut leaf to spend the day under.

On this date

Cloudy with 100% chance of migrating warblers: the yard is briefly possessed. I hear a noise, turn my head and meet a rabbit's critical gaze. …

Two cabbage whites engage in a dogfight, or possibly a pas de deux. A leaf detaches itself from a lilac branch and turns into a hummingbird. …

Ground fog in the corner of the meadow glowing faintly pink in the sunrise. A flicker flies out of the old den in the dead elm tree. …

A scattering of white in my overgrown garden: soapwort, bindweed, fleabane, snakeroot. The sky brightens. A towhee calls from the lilac. …

Red leaves in the yard—the red of spring rather than autumn. The multiflora rose, pruned once again by passing deer, struggles to re-leaf. …

As always when the air is clear and the sun at a low angle, I'm astonished by how many small insects drift back and forth between the trees. …

The fog has outlined every spider web, making the dead cherry look like the Flying Dutchman, tattered sails ghosting in the breeze. …

Something stirs in the silky dogwood across the road. I stroll over: blue berries, a warbler dressed for travel in its yellow-green suit. …

The far side of the driveway is dusted in white—snakeroot coming into bloom. The poison that killed Lincoln's mother, distilled in milk. …

The Morning Porch