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Daily short takes from an Appalachian hollow

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January 2, 2010

Dave Bonta January 2, 2010 2

The snow’s blowing from the east; I’m quickly covered. With my new white fur I will go crouch over a rabbit’s burrow, Nanook of the South.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged cottontail, snowstorm

January 1, 2010

Dave Bonta January 1, 2010

A shimmer so fine it takes me five minutes to ascertain that it is snow, not rain. Dove wings whistle and a raven croaks: no dry land here!

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged mourning doves, raven

December 31, 2009

Dave Bonta December 31, 2009 4

Snow! Snow snowing on snow. Snow snowily snows. Snowy, snowier, snowiest snow. Snow snow snow! (Ice? No.)

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged snowstorm

December 30, 2009

Dave Bonta December 30, 2009

Cold—the porch boards pop under my feet. A yearling doe walks by with her fur puffed out. But the stream’s gurgle remains unmuffled by ice.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged deer, stream

December 29, 2009

Dave Bonta December 29, 2009 1

Wind roars on the ridgetop; dervishes of snow in the yard. A loud rending—some trunk or limb—and I hold my breath waiting for the crash.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged wind

December 28, 2009

Dave Bonta December 28, 2009

Bitter wind, and a skim of new snow fills in the dips and wrinkles, making the icy snowpack look young again. The screech of a jay.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged blue jays

December 27, 2009

Dave Bonta December 27, 2009

Yesterday’s slush has set like poorly mixed concrete, and the road’s slick as glass. The Carolina wren sings a song I’ve never heard before.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged Carolina wren

December 26, 2009

Dave Bonta December 26, 2009

In the steady rain, a squirrel grabs an unburied black walnut from under the walnut-stained slush and carries it back up the tree.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged black walnut, gray squirrel

December 25, 2009

Dave Bonta December 25, 2009

The predicted icestorm has yet to start. Long minutes pass between the distant noise of engines. A raven croaks. The stream’s slow trickle.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged icestorm, raven, stream

December 24, 2009

Dave Bonta December 24, 2009

Quarry noise. What good are holidays if we can’t at least have some quiet? I concentrate on the dove wings’ one-note flutes, imagine angels.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged mourning doves, quarry

December 23, 2009

Dave Bonta December 23, 2009

Four does pick their way down the road, file into the woods, and surround a small rhododendron. “Stop eating that!” I yell. They bound off.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged deer, rhododendron

December 22, 2009

Dave Bonta December 22, 2009

A screech owl adds its quaver to the minimal dawn chorus: mourning dove coos, finch and sparrow chirps. Snow and highway noise on the wind.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged I-99, mourning doves, screech owl

December 21, 2009

Dave Bonta December 21, 2009

A pileated woodpecker herky-jerks to the top of a tall locust and flies off. My apple core disappears into the white yard without a sound.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged pileated woodpecker

December 20, 2009

Dave Bonta December 20, 2009

The sky takes half the morning to clear: deep blue of the almost-solstice above snowy limbs. The chickadee’s two notes in a minor key.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged chickadee

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On This Day

  • May 9, 2024
    Cool and increasingly cloudy as the sun clears the treetops—a bright spot in the gray. A rose-breasted grosbeak sings. Chipmunk metronomes go in and out…
  • May 9, 2023
    “Light rain” turns out to mean a shimmer of mizzle. The forest belongs once again to the preacher bird—red-eyed vireo—and the ovenbird chanting teacher teacher…
  • May 9, 2022
    Sunrise. A squirrel carries a freshly dug-up walnut in its mouth. The tulip tree’s leaves are already big enough to wave like a rave of…
  • May 9, 2021
    The rain arrives just about at church time, hard, steady, drowning out all other sound. Only the big mullein leaves still look dry.
  • May 9, 2020
    Still below freezing by late morning. Snowflakes wander back and forth among the new leaves. Holes in the clouds open and close.

See all...

Related book

Cover of Ice Mountain with a linocut of a big ridgetop tree.

What I do after I sit on the porch. One winter and spring's daily walks distilled into short poems with linocut illustrations by Beth Adams.

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