Cool and partly cloudy. A fledgling wren at the woods’ edge begs to be fed—an interrogatory whine. The mob of feral garlic heads are splitting their hoods.
garlic
July 10, 2024
Here and there, the bracken in my yard is beginning to turn yellow. A hummingbird buzzes past, pausing to inspect several garlic heads.
July 2, 2024
The garlic heads in my yard give pause: a crowd of inverted commas, punctuating wildly. A goldfinch drops by to strip the seeds from an old weed stalk.
June 21, 2024
A hazy sunrise for the first full day of astronomical summer. The feral garlics are raising crane’s-bill heads.
June 24, 2023
Foggy at dawn for the wood thrush’s solo. The wild garlics are beginning to raise their egret heads.
July 12, 2022
An hour after sunrise, wild garlic heads still nod. A flower fly hovers in front of my glasses’ right lens. The smell of smoke.
July 15, 2021
Sunrise. A snort from the deer who sleeps under the crabapple tree. A hummingbird zips past the wild garlic.