The Morning Porch

From 6:00 to 6:30, it’s… November 7, 2007

Dave Bonta November 7, 2007

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.

Dave Bonta November 6, 2007

Wind and rain have stripped the birches and maples at the edge of the woods. A gray squirrel leaps through the bare branches.

Dave Bonta November 5, 2007 1

Venus and the fourth-quarter moon stand close together, shining through the treetops as I drink my coffee.

January 6, 2024
Heavy gray clouds, and a breeze from the east: storm coming. Something flushes all the doves from the spring—a euphony of bright notes.
January 6, 2023
A few flakes of snow. Valley sounds eddy on the wind. The sun makes an appearance among the ridgetop trees.
January 6, 2020
Sun through trees. Where one squirrel has just raced over the snow another squirrel follows, pausing in the same places. The allure of heat.
January 6, 2018
Another brutally cold morning. From somewhere under the house where the heating ducts run, the trilling of a Carolina wren.
January 6, 2017
A fresh half-inch of snow, now beginning to blow off the trees. The stream is still loudly eulogizing Tuesday’s rain.