The Morning Porch

Dave Bonta December 11, 2007

Another cold and misty morning. The last of the snow is gone from the hillside. Pressed flat, the leaf litter still glows faintly red.

Previous Post: Previous Post

Next Post: Next Post

October 9, 2024
Clear and still cold at mid-morning. Sunlight flashes through thinning leaves shuffled by the wind, the sun’s own color more a yell than a yellow.
October 9, 2023
An hour before dawn, the crescent moon hangs just above the ridge, with Venus blazing like a campfire through the trees. It’s cold. An inversion…
October 9, 2022
One degree above freezing at sunrise. A breeze reshuffles the walnut leaves on the porch. I find small patches of frost up by the barn.
October 9, 2021
Fifteen minutes after sunrise, the sky darkens again. The fierce yet querulous cries of a Cooper’s hawk skimming the treetops.
October 9, 2020
Clear and still. I notice with some sadness that the goldenrod meadow has faded. A large, loud V of geese goes over, heading north.