The porch is plastered with fresh snow; more flakes fly past without stopping. A Carolina wren holds forth from the heart of a barberry.
snowflakes
March 7, 2023
It’s snowing, fine flakes turning fat and slow—but so many of them, it’s mesmerizing to watch. After a while I look down: I too have been buried.
February 18, 2023
Sun blazing through the trees illuminates lost snowflakes, miles from the nearest cloud. A chipmunk with hibernation insomnia races up the driveway.
February 3, 2023
-12C with a wind. Which one of those small pink clouds is responsible for these snowflakes? My oil furnace trembles under the house like a wounded animal.
February 1, 2023
I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to this: bitter cold with the ground mostly bare. Chickadees are having a fracas. Snow drifts down from a clearing sky.
January 26, 2023
Gray sky raked by swaying treetops, the wind made visible by squadrons of snowflakes flying this way and that. The sound of rodent teeth.
January 6, 2023
A few flakes of snow. Valley sounds eddy on the wind. The sun makes an appearance among the ridgetop trees.
December 11, 2022
Slow snowfall in a silence punctuated only by birds. I’m tired enough that watching it feels almost like sleep.
December 1, 2022
Treetops rock and sway in the wind—a restive mountainside. A few snowflakes fly this way and that.
April 19, 2022
Gauzy curtains of snow falling from the treetops—six inches’ worth—even as more snowflakes start coming down. The wind’s work is never done.
April 17, 2022
Looking through a series of thin screens: swirling snowflakes, greening lilac, yellow forsythia, bare trees, holey clouds.
April 10, 2022
Snowflakes dance wildly but all the daffodils can do is nod and sway. O sweet Canada, sings the sparrow.
March 27, 2022
Winter’s back, with snow on the ground and more coming down. Juncos twitter happily. An ambulance goes wailing through the gap.
March 26, 2022
Heavy clouds except where the sun glimmers through. Snowflakes. The robin’s bright warble.