Falling snow so fine it lends little more than a shimmer to the air, like heat waves above a summer street except for the downward drift.
Plummer’s Hollow
January 9, 2009
At first light, a rare glimpse of a rabbit below the porch. I can hear the ice shattering as it chews on a clump of dead brome grass.
January 8, 2009
January 7, 2009
January 6, 2009
Overcast and still, apart from the nasal calls of nuthatches. The few remaining spots of snow resemble nothing so much as blotches of mold.
January 5, 2009
Long before daylight you can hear it coming, this first Monday after New Year’s, loud with the whine of truck tires on the interstate.
January 4, 2009
So quiet, I could be in the middle of nowhere: nothing but the slow trickle of the stream and the gurgling of my belly. A few faint stars.
January 3, 2009
January 2, 2009
January 1, 2009
December 31, 2008
A fresh half-inch of snow is enough to give shape to banshees towering into the treetops, which whip back and forth, shedding dead limbs.