Two hours past sunrise, a scarlet tanager sings unchallenged from a tree in the yard. The sunlight fades in and out. A mourning dove calls in the distance.
Plummer’s Hollow
June 25, 2024
Clear and cool. A deer snorts alarm up in the woods. A female cardinal picks a black raspberry on her way through my yard.
June 24, 2024
Breezy, cool and clear, with chimney swifts circling high overhead and a single raven hurtling past without flapping a wing.
June 23, 2024
Overcast. Sunrise is when the crows wake up. A large brown moth tucks itself into the eaves.
June 22, 2024
Ten minutes past sunrise, the catbird begins to improvise. The first mosquito welt of the day rises on the back of my hand.
June 21, 2024
A hazy sunrise for the first full day of astronomical summer. The feral garlics are raising crane’s-bill heads.
June 20, 2024
A cool beginning to another hot day. The chipping sparrow’s dry rattle. Phoebe and wood-pewee from either side of the woods’ edge like the citizens of neighboring countries comparing accents.
June 19, 2024
Mist rising from the meadow. In the woods, one moss-covered bole of a black birch is illuminated by a random shaft of sun.
June 18, 2024
Everything still drips from last night’s storm. I abandon the porch for a quick hike before the heat.
June 17, 2024
Clear and still. A flicker’s eponymous chant from the sunlit crown of a black locust. The black raspberries in my yard are already blood-red.
June 16, 2024
Cool and quiet, with the sun half-dimmed by thin clouds. A series of loud wingbeats from the forest. A gurgle from my gut.
June 15, 2024
Deep blue sky—the dry high is here. In the broad sunbeam that warms my chest I watch the slow drift of mites and motes.
June 14, 2024
Overcast at sunrise. The jumping spider who lives under my chair comes topside for a brief scuttle about. A red-bellied woodpecker bangs on his morning drum.
June 13, 2024
A crow gurgling in dispute to the east, a jake-breaking truck to the west… the wood thrush with his pure, bell-like notes gets no respect.