A break in the rain. Puffs of steam from a house across the way. Birds converge on the feeders as the sun comes out.
Saturday September 28, 2019
Looking at the pattern of wet spots on the table. One could classify showers based on whether they last long enough to apply one full coat.
Friday September 27, 2019
A tiny, dark spider races over the flannel hills of my shirt—which, I now notice in this storm light, is more purple than gray.
Thursday September 26, 2019
Spitting rain. A small flock of great tits in the elder, jockeying for a chance at the suet. Below, a quiet robin blends into the dirt.
Wednesday September 25, 2019
Cold and drizzly. Two feet from the hypericum’s last yellow petals, the honeysuckle’s first yellow leaf.
Tuesday September 24, 2019
Two wood pigeons sitting on a chimney pot take flight, circle the gardens, and return to their perch, sheltering under a TV aerial from the fast-flying clouds.
Monday September 23, 2019
A spliff-shaped cloud drifts past. The rose bush reminds me of the old blues lyric: The way you wear them dresses, the sun keeps shining through…
Sunday September 22, 2019
The garden has almost dried off after a brief rain shower. A snail on the watering can retracts its eyes.
Saturday September 21, 2019
In the otherwise uncluttered blue, the moon like a half-slice of fruit. An orange cat threads the ivy atop the neighbor’s fence.
Friday September 20, 2019
The usual parade of jets overhead. On the brown lawn, my partner is painting her climate strike sign green and blue.