Through egg-white clouds that bright yolk. The hoarse but exuberant call of a red-winged blackbird echoes off the hillside.
Tuesday March 17, 2020
In the fog and mizzle, swelling yellow-green lilac buds are the brightest thing. A single jet goes over in all the time I sit outside.
Sunday March 15, 2020
Bright sun. The damp ground glistens like a salamander. A jet goes over—the first I’ve heard in a while.
Friday March 13, 2020
Rain past, the hollow is full of birds. Fast moving clouds. A Carolina wren sings exultantly through a high gust of wind.
Thursday March 12, 2020
Sun through thin clouds. A flash of red as a cardinal emerges from bathing in the stream. Two ravens croak back and forth, high and low.
Wednesday March 11, 2020
Overcast and still. Two downy woodpeckers a quarter mile apart have found dead trees that, when hammered, ring at precisely the same pitch.
Tuesday March 10, 2020
Overcast. A field sparrow’s ascending note. In the dead grass below the stone wall, an otherwise motionless garter snake tastes the air.
Monday March 09, 2020
From up in the woods, the kak-kak-kak call of a Cooper’s hawk. The first question mark butterfly lands among dead leaves and vanishes.
Sunday March 08, 2020
In the deep blue, the only spots of white, high overhead, are swans: two large Vs tacking this way and that, trailing their piccolo notes.
Saturday March 07, 2020
Cloudless and cool. I wonder idly about the target shooter a couple of miles away, their preferred pronouns. A fly walks the rim of my mug.