Hazy but not yet hot. Hummingbirds circle the soapwort patch, as if following the red threads of bindweed.
2022
July 23, 2022
Every time I look up from my book, more sunlight has infiltrated the forest like bright rungs of a ladder. A raven clears its throat.
July 22, 2022
Chimney swifts circle high overhead as the last bats head home. The sun rising through small clouds is crowned by dark spokes.
July 21, 2022
A few minutes before sunrise. Goldfinch chatter. A half-slice of moon hangs in the east like an icon of wintry cool.
July 20, 2022
Cool at sunrise with a restless breeze. The big tulip tree at the woods’ edge drops a few more drought-yellowed leaves.
July 18, 2022
Fifteen hours of off-and-on rain and everything looks greener. The big red maple that just finished dying sheds a chunk of rotten wood.
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.
July 16, 2022
Heavily overcast; on the weather app, it’s raining. The sky lightens; on the weather app, bright sunshine. From Mom’s house, the measured tones of Morning Edition.
July 15, 2022
A day of high contrast between sun and shade. A wood pewee lands on the dead mullein stalk in my yard and sways back and forth.
July 14, 2022
Partly cloudy and cool. A large garter snake emerges from the stone wall and curls up on a sunny corner of the porch.
July 13, 2022
Cool and clear. An asterisk of thistledown floats by—high time for the goldfinches to be nesting, I think. But they’re still gadding about in the treetops.
July 12, 2022
An hour after sunrise, wild garlic heads still nod. A flower fly hovers in front of my glasses’ right lens. The smell of smoke.
July 11, 2022
Sunlight dulled by high haze. A squirrel in the garden grooms its genitals, then pulls a soapwort blossom close for an almost-kiss.
July 10, 2022
Crystal-clear and cool—a perfect morning to sit and write. When I look up an hour later, a new spiderweb glistens in the eaves.