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The Morning Porch

Daily short takes from an Appalachian hollow

The Morning Porch
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Month: March 2024

March 17, 2024 by Dave Bonta

Patches of blue. The mourning dove’s incessant cooing finally comes to an end, leaving the daffodils’ ensemble of horns to their silence.

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Categories Plummer's Hollow Tags daffodils, mourning doves
March 16, 2024 by Dave Bonta

The sun finally clears the one, thin cloud above the horizon only to disappear into a thicket. The robin has taken a break, so the titmouse holds forth.

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Categories Plummer's Hollow Tags American robin, sunrise, tufted titmouse
March 15, 2024 by Dave Bonta

A gray cloud ceiling brightens toward the horizon. A phoebe stridently announces himself to the echoey hillside and the daffodils trembling in the breeze.

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Categories Plummer's Hollow Tags clouds, daffodils, phoebe
March 14, 2024 by Dave Bonta

Bright blear of a sun in a sky more white than blue. Its light reflecting off the window behind me means I am lit on all sides as I peer down at the first, miniature daffodils still in shade.

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Categories Plummer's Hollow Tags clouds, daffodils 1 Comment
March 13, 2024 by Dave Bonta

Thin clouds gone faintly pink. Under the endless robin song, a winter wren sings burbling accompaniment to the creek.

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Categories Plummer's Hollow Tags American robin, clouds, stream, sunrise, winter wren
March 12, 2024 by Dave Bonta

The sun climbs through bare trees while I’m not looking, lost in blue like the titmouse with his endless diatribe.

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Categories Plummer's Hollow Tags sunrise, tufted titmouse
March 11, 2024 by Dave Bonta

The ground is white again, and the trees sway like drunks as small orange clouds scud past. I sample the freezing air through a sunburnt nose.

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Categories Plummer's Hollow Tags clouds, cold, snow, wind
March 10, 2024 by Dave Bonta

Time Change Day! I for one welcome our chronological overlords, and I’m out at the new 6:30 just as the weather, too, is making a change, the creek roaring, snowflakes drifting down.

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Categories Plummer's Hollow Tags Daylight Savings, snowflakes, stream
March 9, 2024 by Dave Bonta

Rain and robin song. The sky darkens. The black birches look dapper in their gray-green suits of lichen.

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Categories Plummer's Hollow Tags American robin, black birch, lichen, rain
March 8, 2024 by Dave Bonta

After a bright sunrise, the clouds move in, one settling among the trees. The creek sounds more sober now, and here and there, the grass is greening up.

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Categories Plummer's Hollow Tags clouds, stream, sunrise
March 7, 2024 by Dave Bonta

An hour past sunrise, bright spots begin appearing in the clouds. A lull in the birdsong. I notice the old lilac’s haze of green buds.

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Categories Plummer's Hollow Tags clouds, lilac
March 6, 2024 by Dave Bonta

Thick fog that lasts for hours. Sunrise must’ve been that big flock of red-winged blackbirds and grackles crackling and creaking like old doors.

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Categories Plummer's Hollow Tags common grackle, fog, red-winged blackbird
March 5, 2024 by Dave Bonta

Dripping at dawn has thickened into steady rain by the time I get out of the shower. The robins, cardinals, woodpeckers and wrens seem barely to have noticed. It’s spring.

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Categories Plummer's Hollow Tags American robin, cardinal, Carolina wren, rain, red-bellied woodpecker
March 4, 2024 by Dave Bonta

Another flat-white sunrise, today with the death scream of a rabbit. Crows, woodpeckers. The Carolina wren with his list of demands.

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Categories Plummer's Hollow Tags Carolina wren, clouds, cottontail
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On This Day

  • April 16, 2025
    A cold wind rummaging through the forest, mixing up the sounds of crows and trains and sirens. The sun appears for a second or two…
  • April 16, 2024
    In the last few minutes before the sun crests the ridge, ghosts lingering among the trees turn back into blossoming shadbush. A chickadee is singing…
  • April 16, 2023
    Sun glimmering through fog as wild turkeys whine and gobble, mourning doves moan, and a red-winged blackbird sings in the marsh.
  • April 16, 2022
    Rainy, breezy and intermittently bright. The zigzag flight of a phoebe finding breakfast above the daffodils.
  • April 16, 2021
    The last to shed leaves in the fall is the first to regrow them: sprawling lilac with green tongues just long enough to catch drops…

See all...

Related book

Cover of Ice Mountain with a linocut of a big ridgetop tree.

What I do after I sit on the porch. One winter and spring's daily walks distilled into short poems with linocut illustrations by Beth Adams.

Header image: detail from Paper Garden by Clive Hicks-Jenkins (used by permission)

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