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Daily short takes from an Appalachian hollow

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October 20, 2009

Dave Bonta October 20, 2009

Bright lights appear on a storm-felled locust below my parents’ house—reflections from the second-storey windows. A hawk’s swift shadow.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged hawks, red-tailed hawk

October 19, 2009

Dave Bonta October 19, 2009

Heavy frost. In the clear, still air, black birch leaves fall like rain. A pileated woodpecker dives cackling into the treetops.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged pileated woodpecker

October 18, 2009

Dave Bonta October 18, 2009

At first light, I can’t get over the strangeness of a white ground below an opaque wall of woods. It’s magical, yes, but not in a good way.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged snowstorm

October 17, 2009

Dave Bonta October 17, 2009

The hush of snow against leaves like soft brushes playing on the skin of a drum. A chickadee calls, and then a nuthatch. Dee dee. Yank yank.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged chickadee, snowstorm, white-breasted nuthatch

October 16, 2009

Dave Bonta October 16, 2009

A wet blanket of snow has crushed the lilac and bowed down the flaming maples and still-green oaks. Every 30 seconds another crack or crash.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged lilac, snowstorm

October 15, 2009

Dave Bonta October 15, 2009

Cold rain rattles in the leaves. On the side of the house, an assassin bug with huge hind legs—about to die, it seems, with his boots on.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged assassin bug

October 14, 2009

Dave Bonta October 14, 2009

A patch of silver in the yard: first frost. A jet glints in the rising sun, its short contrail twice as bright as the crescent moon.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged frost, moon

October 13, 2009

Dave Bonta October 13, 2009

Rising late, I listen to loggers’ chainsaws from over the ridge to the west. The trees are almost at their peak of color. A distant crash.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged fall foliage, logging

October 12, 2009

Dave Bonta October 12, 2009

Now I realize why the Adirondacks seemed so quiet: no jays! One reconnoiters the porch, pivoting in front of my chair with an odd screech.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged blue jays

October 11, 2009

Dave Bonta October 11, 2009 2

Cold and clear. Stripes of sunlight don’t distinguish between the gold on the trees and the gold already on the ground: everything glows.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged fall foliage

October 10, 2009

Dave Bonta October 10, 2009 4

Coming back from the Adirondacks, I find a different mountain: much redder and yellower than it was a week ago, and much less mountainous.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged Adirondacks, fall foliage

October 4, 2009

Dave Bonta October 4, 2009 2

[Gone camping in the Adirondacks. Back in five or six days.]

Posted in Plummer's Hollow

October 3, 2009

Dave Bonta October 3, 2009 1

Thick fog. Silence punctuated by the muffled thuds of black walnuts landing on the lawn. The distant, mad cackle of a pileated woodpecker.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged black walnut, fog, pileated woodpecker

October 2, 2009

Dave Bonta October 2, 2009

Cold drizzle. The burble of a song sparrow. A flycatcher of indeterminate species flutters up from the foxtail millet beside the stream.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged flycatcher, foxtail millet, song sparrow, stream

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On This Day

  • October 20, 2024
    Patches of frost in the yard. The old lilac at the woods’ edge has chosen this time to partially re-leaf after the summer’s drought: half-sized,…
  • October 20, 2023
    Between dawn and sunrise, a small rainstorm’s pleasant susurration drowns out everything else. As it eases, a Carolina wren takes over, caroling in a minor…
  • October 20, 2022
    Dawn brings a chittering of sparrows from the meadow. It’s cold. Frost edges the periwinkle leaves.
  • October 20, 2021
    Sunrise inches forward, chirp by chirp: towhee, white-throated sparrow. A rabbit gazes at me from the end of the porch with eyes dark as cisterns.
  • October 20, 2020
    Under a low cloud ceiling, the thunder of trains and traffic from the valley. The black cat’s deadly silence trips a gray-squirrel alarm.

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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