red maple

Tuesday November 06, 2018

Dave Bonta November 6, 2018 0

With birches and maples at the woods’ edge all bare, I can see unimpeded up the hillside to small clouds lost among the trees and the rain.

Dave Bonta October 23, 2018 0

A swarm of maple helicopters. I sneeze and a wren begins to sing. A kinglet rotates in time to the music. We’re in this dance together.

Dave Bonta April 9, 2018

This spring is—let’s be honest—not spring-loaded. Eurasian shrubs haven’t begun to green up. Even the red maple buds have yet to swell.

Dave Bonta September 19, 2017

A monarch butterfly en route to Mexico glides over the house, past the orange leaves on the last living branch of a hollow maple.

Dave Bonta May 9, 2017

Cold and clear. A squirrel climbs to the top of a red maple, bites off a seed-laden twig and carries it to a lower limb—a feast of wings.

*

The Morning Porch will be on hiatus until September.

Dave Bonta May 2, 2017

‪Every pit in the porch floor’s paint is stained with pollen. A small samara helicopters past, too young to sprout but not too young to fly.‬

Dave Bonta April 11, 2017 2

Red maple trees blossom on their own schedules. The branches I watched the moon slip through like a slow fish last night are now ablaze.

Dave Bonta March 30, 2017 2

Dismal and cold, like a November day—except for the daffodils, the field sparrow’s rising trill, the red maple blossoms about to burst.

Dave Bonta October 21, 2016 1

After last night’s storm, all the birches and maples at the woods’ edge have lost their bright leaves, the oaks beyond still a sombre green.

Dave Bonta September 30, 2016 1

A steady shimmer of rain. At the woods’ edge, the first fall fashions have arrived, two maples trading their faded green for salmon.