Thin fog/low clouds. It feels as if rain could start at any moment but does not. A Carolina wren nearly drowns out the sound of traffic.
Month: December 2022
In the cold drizzle, a squirrel looks less gray than silver, shining dully as she crouches under the fur umbrella of her tail.
Cold and still. Dove wings accompany a train whistle. A red sunrise creeps down the western ridge.
Still haunted by dreams I can’t remember when the sun clears the ridge and sets the clouds of my breath aglow.
Cold rain. Four chickadees in a high-speed chase around the yard pause in the lilac for a vociferous exchange of views.
The frosted meadow glitters in the sun. A scrabbling of squirrel claws on bark. Off to the south, a raven croaks; to the north, crows.
Treetops rock and sway in the wind—a restive mountainside. A few snowflakes fly this way and that.