Birds keep landing on the empty feeder, like kids in a home with an unpaid cable bill staring at the TV. The wind pages through my notebook.
wind
Friday March 13, 2020
Rain past, the hollow is full of birds. Fast moving clouds. A Carolina wren sings exultantly through a high gust of wind.
Friday February 14, 2020
Cold, with an icy breeze that creeps under both my hoods. A dusting of snow. The distant sound of a door slamming shut.
Friday February 07, 2020
A half-inch of wet snow blew in so fast, it’s plastered to the sides of trees in lumps. From up on the ridge, the white noise of the wind.
Thursday January 16, 2020
I find my chair where the wind left it at the far end of the porch with a cracked back. Dried cattail leaves flap like banners for the dead.
Wednesday January 08, 2020
The snow squall stops just before I come out all bundled up and squinting at the sun, the porch two inches deep in windblown snow.
Sunday January 05, 2020
Snowflakes in the air give shape to the wind. I sneeze, and a pileated woodpecker emerges from the far side of an oak and flies off.
Wednesday December 18, 2019
The icy trees have been dusted with snow, which still sticks in the wind when they make a sound like the dry grinding of snails’ teeth.
Wednesday December 11, 2019
Fast-moving clouds make the illumination of the hillside as sudden and surprising as a magician’s trick. Fallen leaves turn over one by one.
Thursday November 28, 2019
My chair has moved to the far end of the porch, away from the wind. Feral herds of leaves crab-walk and cartwheel across the forest floor.