Sun through a scrim of cloud. From within a flame-leaved barberry bush, the crisp ticking of a junco. | Continue reading
Clouds selectively erasing the stars at dawn. A strong inversion layer: traffic noise from the interstate mingles with barred owl calls. | Continue reading
A half hour after sunrise, a rattling in the fallen leaves: raindrops! Slowly accelerating into an actual shower. Which peters out much too soon. | Continue reading
Late in rising, I’m grateful to the oaks for still holding leaves—I don’t need sunglasses. My brother texts: Savannah sparrows in the field! | Continue reading
Pale columns of sky all along the ridge. Frost as white as my breath. A rising tide of chirps and trills as sunrise draws near. | Continue reading
Cold and mostly overcast, but the rising sun strikes my face a full hour earlier due to overnight thinning of the leaves. | Continue reading
Dawn. Clouds glow with the lights from town. The great bulk of the lilac against the dark woods, trembling in the wind. | Continue reading
Heavily overcast and quiet at dawn. A low surf of crickets. From the spruce grove a half mile away, a barred owl’s hoo-aw. | Continue reading
Overcast with fog that thins out for the purported sunrise. It’s warm enough that one tree cricket trills in the herb garden. | Continue reading
High, slow-moving reefs of cloud at sunrise. The white-throated sparrows in the meadow conclude their chittering and go their separate ways. | Continue reading
Dawn. Low over the trees, the last sliver of moon like fangs of a snake trying to swallow a dark, glowing egg. | Continue reading
Clear and still. I watch the sun inch through the half-turned canopies of the oaks. A chipmunk begins his morning chant. | Continue reading
Two degrees below freezing and clear at sunrise. A falling tulip tree leaf lands with an audible tick. | Continue reading
Dawn brings a chittering of sparrows from the meadow. It’s cold. Frost edges the periwinkle leaves. | Continue reading
In the half-light of dawn, wet snow falls through the dimly glowing autumn leaves. A white-throated sparrow’s plaintive note. | Continue reading
A cold and windy dawn. The crescent moon drowns in a sorcery of pink. | Continue reading
Colors so much warmer than the air. Halfway through the morning, the sky clears. Sun in the treetops. A phoebe calls. | Continue reading
A hair above freezing. A pair of jays fresh from their ablutions ascend a flaming birch, gleaning insects on their way to the oaks. | Continue reading
Rain tapering off by mid morning. The sun even emerges for one or two seconds, setting off a crow. | Continue reading
Slightly warmer. Alarmed chipmunks go in and out of sync. The slow hegemony of clouds. | Continue reading
Sun in the treetops and a small flock of migrants just below, catching some breakfast. A chipmunk’s motor slowly runs out of putts. | Continue reading
Sunrise has been delayed by clouds, but I hold out hope. A wren tuts impatiently. A train horn blows a flat minor chord. | Continue reading
One degree above freezing at sunrise. A breeze reshuffles the walnut leaves on the porch. I find small patches of frost up by the barn. | Continue reading
Cold, clear, and quiet. The wind has almost died. Through yellow leaves, just a bit more sky. | Continue reading
Dawn. I watch the stars fade then brighten again, as a thin veil of cloud I hadn’t noticed moves off like a lizard’s third eyelid. | Continue reading
Another woods-edge maple has gone red. Bouncing bet still blooms beside the porch, four months on. | Continue reading
How can it be so yellow out and yet so cold? But the winter birds sound happy: chickadees, nuthatches, a red-bellied woodpecker. | Continue reading
Light rain seasoning the breeze. A squirrel perched on a swaying limb chisels open a walnut—that haunted-house sound. | Continue reading
A mid-morning break in the rain. The sun almost comes out. From up in the woods, the shrill panic of a squirrel just missed by a hawk. | Continue reading
Overcast and cold. A furious back-and-forth of chainsaws from the powerline, where a crew works to refresh the century-old clearcut. | Continue reading
Breezy, cold and clear. Perfect weather for my favorite autumn sport, watching leaves fall: those that tumble, those that plummet, those that twirl. | Continue reading
Overcast, windy and cold at dawn. Soft thuds as the black walnut tree releases its ordnance onto the road. | Continue reading
Rising late to find the sun already in the trees and the air redolent of autumn. Silhouettes of birds pass as quietly as thoughts through the canopy. | Continue reading
In the half-dark of dawn, something runs across the porch toward my feet—I scream and jump. The rabbit too appears to be discombobulated. | Continue reading
Showers give way to tentative sunlight by late morning. It’s quiet. A lone blue jay calls. | Continue reading
A couple of cold nights and the yellow has spread like a contagion through the birches. A squirrel hangs down among the green walnuts. | Continue reading
Windy and cold (40F/5C). A sudden outpouring of Canada goose music. The sun comes out from behind the only cloud. | Continue reading
Lightning flickers on the horizon at dawn. The dull glow of the crescent moon’s darkened bulk reminds me that the earth also shines. | Continue reading
Dawn comes with an inversion layer, traffic noise half-smothering the scattered notes of thrushes fresh from their night flights. | Continue reading
A clear dawn sky, with the crescent moon like Orion’s boomerang just missing Castor and Pollux. The widely scattered chirps of migrating birds. | Continue reading
Dawn. The last katydid falls silent. The fourth-quarter moon, curled up like a dried fish, disappears into a cloud. | Continue reading
Thin fog at sunrise. A pileated woodpecker lands on the side of a tall locust tree and gets bum-rushed by a squirrel. | Continue reading
Cold (46F) with thin, high clouds. Black walnuts knocking on the roof. A red-tailed hawk drops in to visit the squirrels. | Continue reading
A high cloud ceiling full of holes. In the meadow, one snakeroot flower nods: hummingbird. | Continue reading
Deep blue sky with last night’s rain still glistening in the understory. In the sun-drenched canopy, four crows sit yelling at a raven. | Continue reading
Fog rising into the treetops. The garden chipmunk keeps me company, sitting on the end of the wall, scratching his belly. | Continue reading
Steady rain of the sort we’ve needed for months. Lily-of-the-valley’s drought-burnt leaves turn slick as tongues. | Continue reading
Harvest moon setting behind the western ridge, followed by a faint moon dog in the wash of cirrus. | Continue reading