Moon above, mist below, and the treetops shot with sun. Jays call back and forth, acorns filling the pouches in their throats.
fog
9/21/2023
Dawn: the red thread of a contrail fraying as it fades. Fog rises from the goldenrod, erasing the faint dot that must’ve been Mercury.
9/10/2023
The treetops are full of fog and small birds catching insects. Everything drips. A yellowjacket begins a slow inspection of the porch balustrade.
7/18/2023
Dawn fog loud with noise from the interstate, thanks to an inversion layer: it’s chilly for July. I don a flannel shirt and soon find myself daydreaming about autumn.
7/15/2023
Fog lingering into mid-morning. Whatever the crows are up to, it involves a lot of begging sounds. The wild garlic heads are beginning to split.
7/7/2023
A foggy sunrise. The catbird circles the house, mimicking the Carolina wren on double speed.
6/26/2023
Thick fog. The wren sings from the other side of the house, seemingly unconcerned by losing two days’ labor when their unbalanced new nest fell out of the rafters.
6/24/2023
Foggy at dawn for the wood thrush’s solo. The wild garlics are beginning to raise their egret heads.
6/16/2023
The soft noise of steady rain; birdcalls sound half-submerged. I watch wisps of cloud drift through the yard.
5/14/2023
A catbird running through his dawn monologue is drowned out by a whippoorwill. Fog forms in the lower hollow, extending a ghostly finger into the marsh.
5/6/2023
Ground fog turns the field white at sunrise. A rabbit feeding at the edge of the driveway feels me watching and looks up, eyes unreadable as quicksand.
4/30/2023
Steady rain through the intense green of new leaves, softened by fog. A gray squirrel sits hunched over an acorn under the awning of its tail.
4/29/2023
Thin fog full of goldfinch chatter and turkey gobbling. A rare red squirrel emerges from the woods and zips all around the springhouse.
4/16/2023
Sun glimmering through fog as wild turkeys whine and gobble, mourning doves moan, and a red-winged blackbird sings in the marsh.