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Daily short takes from an Appalachian hollow

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December 13, 2007

Dave Bonta December 13, 2007

Tickticktick—sleet slipping through the forest’s net of twigs. Grains with no hourglass, a rush order for all who dream of the beach.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow

December 12, 2007

Dave Bonta December 12, 2007

Last night, I watched a meteor blaze across a hole in the white clouds. This morning, a full palette of grays. The local star peeks through.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow

December 11, 2007

Dave Bonta December 11, 2007

Another cold and misty morning. The last of the snow is gone from the hillside. Pressed flat, the leaf litter still glows faintly red.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow

December 10, 2007

Dave Bonta December 10, 2007

The cooing turned out to be a raven—later on, it was barking like a dog. Rifle season is over, and the mountain is littered with gut piles.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged raven

December 9, 2007

Dave Bonta December 9, 2007

Overcast and misty. Beyond the scolding squirrels, a cooing cry I can’t place. I’m absurdly pleased with the echo when I break wind.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged gray squirrel

December 8, 2007

Dave Bonta December 8, 2007

Two degrees above freezing and the snow has lost all its magic. The roof drips. Old footprints grow round and dark as spots on dice.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow

December 7, 2007

Dave Bonta December 7, 2007

White ground, white sky, and in the treetops seven crows gather for a noisy meeting. One of them keeps chanting the same, 5-syllable phrase.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow

December 6, 2007

Dave Bonta December 6, 2007

Clear and very cold. I hear squirrel teeth on walnut shell. The Carolina wren’s happiness motor turns over once, twice, then putts to life.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged Carolina wren, gray squirrel

December 5, 2007

Dave Bonta December 5, 2007

Two nuthatches trade insults from adjacent trees, yelling through their noses like warring doormen in their blue-gray livery.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged white-breasted nuthatch

December 4, 2007

Dave Bonta December 4, 2007

The wind no longer howls, but now the merest breeze provokes a chorus of moans and shrieks. The oaks are finally almost all naked.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow

December 3, 2007

Dave Bonta December 3, 2007

Sometime in the night the rain stopped, the temperature edged above freezing, and all the new armor fell from the trees. Snow in the air.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow

December 2, 2007

Dave Bonta December 2, 2007

Quiet except for the distant moan of a truck’s brakes and the staticky sound of sleet, giving way to a heavier ordnance of freezing rain.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged trucks

December 1, 2007

Dave Bonta December 1, 2007

Scarlet oak leaf: blown sideways, it still manages to get a few spirals in. Bluejay: it takes me a second to recognize its solitary note.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow

November 30, 2007

Dave Bonta November 30, 2007

Rising late, I get a faceful of sun. I watch the resident naturalist’s blaze-orange vest and cap appearing and disappearing among the trees.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged Mom

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On This Day

  • July 3, 2024
    A deer moves through the sunrise meadow, head and ears visible above the weeds. The furious chittering of a small flock of goldfinches swirling past.
  • July 3, 2023
    Back from the city, wondering how everything could have gotten so much greener and more lush in just four days. The sun comes out. Leaves…
  • July 3, 2022
    Overcast at sunrise. The woodpeckers’ percussive breakfasts. A mosquito wanders over my propped-up feet.
  • July 3, 2021
    On a dark and cloudy morning, the green of the woods’ edge seems even more intense. The scarlet tanager sounds hoarse with longing.
  • July 3, 2016
    A worm-eating warbler ventures out to the woods’ edge, picking caterpillars from the leaves of a birch like an oxpecker grooming a buffalo.

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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