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Daily short takes from an Appalachian hollow

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December 30, 2007

Dave Bonta December 30, 2007

Two squirrels chasing around the trunk of a tulip poplar so quickly, I swear there’s a third. Whose tail is whose? Which one is in heat?

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged gray squirrel

December 29, 2007

Dave Bonta December 29, 2007

I am blocking on common bird calls—with each sneeze I forget another name. Behind the trees, the sky is white and gold, blue and gray.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow

December 28, 2007

Dave Bonta December 28, 2007

The stream this morning is full of auguries, such as: “If you want to be master of all you survey, live in a ravine.” Carolina wren song.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged Carolina wren, stream

December 27, 2007

Dave Bonta December 27, 2007

Chickadees and nuthatches are exchanging news, each in its own language as always. I’m watching snow, but hearing the hiss of sleet.

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

December 26, 2007

Dave Bonta December 26, 2007

The birds eating seeds on the back steps of the other house all fly at once, the rush of wings like a dovetail shuffle of cards.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow

December 25, 2007

Dave Bonta December 25, 2007

Christmas—the quietest morning of the year. The stream is a full chorus. A pileated woodpecker flaps overhead, cheering itself on.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged pileated woodpecker, stream

December 24, 2007

Dave Bonta December 24, 2007

Cold and windy. A chickadee’s two-note spring song echoes off the ridge. Behind the trees, floating above the horizon, one yellow cloud.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged chickadee

December 23, 2007

Dave Bonta December 23, 2007

Thick fog at dawn, gray against the snow. Slate-colored juncos call back and forth: Where are you? A wind comes up.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged fog, juncos

December 22, 2007

Dave Bonta December 22, 2007

Yakety-yak on the porch, dee dee dee in the birches, and everywhere a drip drip drip drip drip: gray solstice morning.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged black birch, chickadee, solstice

December 21, 2007

Dave Bonta December 21, 2007

The sun behind a wash of cirrus seems almost approachable: a bonfire, the eye of a wolf. All the small birds of winter calling at once.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow

December 20, 2007

Dave Bonta December 20, 2007

Distant sound of a rasp on wood: the porcupine’s last meal of the night. In the springhouse lawn, the silhouette of a cat taking a shit.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged porcupine, springhouse

December 19, 2007

Dave Bonta December 19, 2007

With the ground white, squirrels are visible hundreds of feet up in the woods. And when I shut my eyes, the trees reappear on my eyelids.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged gray squirrel

December 18, 2007

Dave Bonta December 18, 2007

Blue sky carved up by the ley lines of industrial man. Who else leaves such arrow-strait trails for mile after mile? Only Coyote.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged contrails, coyote

December 17, 2007

Dave Bonta December 17, 2007

Fresh snow curls in a graceful wave behind each tire of the first car to go down the driveway. Minutes later, the whine of a car in reverse.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow

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On This Day

  • July 6, 2024
    Breezy and a bit less humid. A low buzz below the porch, where orange jewelweed attracts a ruby-throated hummingbird. A low rumble from my own…
  • July 6, 2023
    A still morning. A half-grown walnut lets go of its branch while I’m looking at it, prompting an odd feeling of guilt.
  • July 6, 2022
    Some unscheduled sunshine from a fissure in the clouds, while the breeze whispers of distant storms. I scratch a new itch to redness.
  • July 6, 2021
    In the growing heat, a wood pewee flies from perch to perch, singing, circling the house. I feel as if I’m being ensorcelled.
  • July 6, 2016
    Humid and cool. A nuthatch spirals up rather than down a walnut tree trunk, turning upside-down only when it finds something to eat.

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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Detail from Paper Garden by Clive Hicks-Jenkins (used by permission)

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