White sky, white noise from the highway over the ridge. The goldfinches wake all at once, a querulous babble of squeaky wheels.
Tuesday November 13, 2007
Rain drumming on the roof. A single bar of white-throated sparrow song, and then the factory whistle dividing the dawn from the day.
Monday November 12, 2007
A pair of ravens fly low over the house, invisible in the fog. I’m lost in thought about trickster gods, and right on cue: Arrk! Arrk! Arrk!
Sunday November 11, 2007
My left thumb itches, but nothing wickeder than a nuthatch materializes. The sun comes up.
Saturday November 10, 2007
White on green: the lilac bush heavy with yesterday’s snow. Chickadees bicker, working out a pecking order that will last until spring.
Friday November 09, 2007
A doe trailed by a scrawny 5-point buck. The soundtrack includes a train, a raven, geese, a wren, and a low-flying plane with a wide eraser.
Thursday November 08, 2007
Dawn finds the first snow — a faint dusting. It’s very still. Down in the pines, a screech owl quavers. The slow footfalls of a deer.
From 6:00 to 6:30, it’s…
From 6:00 to 6:30, it’s quiet except for the distant whine of truck tires and the wind in the treetops, more rattle than rustle now.
Tuesday November 06, 2007
Wind and rain have stripped the birches and maples at the edge of the woods. A gray squirrel leaps through the bare branches.
Monday November 05, 2007
Venus and the fourth-quarter moon stand close together, shining through the treetops as I drink my coffee.