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.
After a windy night, the whole horizon is visible beyond the trees. I watch one of the last oak leaves float down, rocking, taking its time.
High gusts of wind salted with rain. Three goldfinches cling like limpets to the thistle seed tube feeder as it careens back and forth.
Sun through thin clouds. Over the wind, the sound of an electric chainsaw cutting and muttering.
From a nearby window, an alarm clock beeps on and on. Such a relief when it finally stops! A fitted sheet on the line fills with wind.
A breeze keeps opening my notebook and riffling the cover on the bicycle behind me as I sit listening to the small grumbles of my stomach.
High gusts of wind. The ash tree—the only tall tree on the block—rocks and sways. A flock of goldfinches hurtles past.
The tall ash tree sways in the wind and the blackbird’s song sways too. R. points out a juvenile blue tit, its markings still a bit blurry.
Gusts of wind salted with rain. A bumblebee somehow manages to hold steady, hovering in front of a kerria rose, then going to the elder.
Windy. A blackbird sings atop the neighbors’ aerial—his sharp outline against the sky. I watch a dandelion seed head for signs of flight.