Almost as warm outside as in. Two deer trot past, their gray coats shining, the trees behind them dark from last night’s rain.
Sunday January 06, 2008
Dripping fog, the snow reduced to patches. Mating season has come for the great-horned owls calling in the distance, one high, one low.
Saturday January 05, 2008
There are mornings so gray that any revelation seems impossible; this is one of them. Still, the finches forage, the wren does its dance.
Friday January 04, 2008
Black lace of branches against the sky. When the wind stops, the thick smoke of my breath blocks my view. A tree pops, loud as a rifle shot.
Thursday January 03, 2008
More fresh snow—or is this the wind’s work? My house is empty again. The night is loud with trains carrying coal and corn syrup.
Wednesday January 02, 2008
I sweep snow off my chair, then look up to see the crescent moon appearing and disappearing behind the clouds. Trees creaking in the dark.
Tuesday January 01, 2008
A fresh dusting of snow since midnight, and more flakes in the air. The windows vibrate with the snoring of a late-night reveler.
Monday December 31, 2007
Rose-tinged feathers puffed out against the fresh snow, the mourning doves look delicious! Their wingbeats are a marriage of fife and drum.
Sunday 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?
Saturday 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.