The sun grows and shrinks as the clouds change in thickness. Two wrens pop out at once from under the porch, one on each side—vociferous.
Dave Bonta
Thursday February 21, 2019
The remains of last night’s ice drip from the trees. A fine lacework of lilac shadow rocks back and forth beside the broken old dog statue.
Wednesday February 20, 2019
Snowstorm. A Carolina wren pokes along the side of the house under the porch roof, right above my head. Sometimes it’s good to be ignored.
Tuesday February 19, 2019
Tossing my apple core out for the squirrels, it thuds and skitters across glare ice. The usual birds with the usual calls; a bit more echo.
Monday February 18, 2019
Snowflakes blown off the roof mingle with first-time fallers. A few trees rock back and forth as if trying to rile up the crowd.
Sunday February 17, 2019
Today the icy snowpack can just support my weight. Crows down at the end of the field remind me of Twitter: two’s company, three’s a mob.
Saturday February 16, 2019
Deep blue sky. A small cloud forms right where I’m gazing. In my garden, a rock has melted the snow around it as if it’s alive.
Friday February 15, 2019
Drip and chitter: the snow is melting, and up at the other house, the birds must be finding seeds that had been buried beneath the feeders.
Thursday February 14, 2019
Bright and cold. Echoing off the ice, the back-and-forth love notes of pileated woodpeckers bashing their heads against dead tree limbs.
Wednesday February 13, 2019
In the blowing snow, a mixed flock of winter birds drifts into the currant bushes, trailed by the resident jay and his one rusty note.