The garden is alive with wrens: four fat fledglings begging as their parents hop about, combing every leaf for morsels, but pausing to sing.
Sunday June 02, 2019
If anything were to happen to the only big tree in this block, we’d know so much less about what the wind is up to, or the goldfinches.
Saturday June 01, 2019
Contrails spread into mare’s tails; every cloud in the sky is man-made. And there goes a red helicopter straight out of a children’s book.
Friday May 31, 2019
A trio of great tits foraging in the shrubbery. A bumblebee flies over, drawing my eye to the swifts circling high against the clouds.
Tuesday May 28, 2019
The lonely barking dog goes on and on, day after day. A newly opened rose on a bush I think of as ancient, though it’s younger than me.
Monday May 27, 2019
Overcast and cold. A European robin lands on a severed limb-end of the elder and casts a critical eye at the pile of withered branches.
Sunday May 26, 2019
From a garden across the way, the desolate barks of a dog locked outside. A breeze showers the table with firethorn blossoms.
Saturday May 25, 2019
The severely pruned elder tree has one green limb, hidden from the arborist by a rampant kerria. Its covert blossoms draw a few tiny flies.
Friday May 24, 2019
5:00 AM in London: sunrise. My body says 1:00. Parakeets go shrieking from their roost in the neighbors’ ash, crossing the gibbous moon.
Tuesday May 21, 2019
Breezy and cool. The yard rings with oriole song. A Cooper’s hawk skims the treetops, wings lit up by the rising sun.