The early miniature daffodils are mostly done, hanging limp as burst balloons. Two chipping sparrows hop among them, pecking at the dirt.
Sun and clouds; turkey and turkey vultures. A waterthrush sings all ‘round the yard, bobbing up and down on his perch.
In bright sun, the tulip poplar’s green torch beside a black cherry’s cloud of tiny pink leaves.
Overcast and cold. A rabbit is gathering dead grass to line a nest at the end of the herb garden, a few feet from the plastic flamingo.
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 of rain.
Shadbush blossoms merge with the sky. A red-tailed hawk drops in and is quickly driven off by the Cooper’s hawk, who lands one good strike.
The rain eases off and the sun ventures out. I spot two mullein plants in the yard, leaves fattening into foundations for the coming stalks.
Under a slowly clearing sky, the new, red-green peony leaves are still beaded with last night’s rain. No trains running; it’s all birdsong.
Overcast and cool. Up on the ridge, two or three crows scold a Cooper’s hawk: high-pitched whines, a gargling rattle. The hawk zips off.
The sky lightens and the rain eases off after a full night’s shift. The lilac looks twice as green as it did yesterday.