The old moon is now mostly ember, clasped by a thin crescent no brighter than nearby Venus. The loud highway noise from the west that portends nice weather. | Continue reading
Still overcast, but with a bit of a breeze. From the woods’ edge, the chick-burr call of a scarlet tanager. A chipmunk’s incessant metronome. | Continue reading
The treetops are full of fog and small birds catching insects. Everything drips. A yellowjacket begins a slow inspection of the porch balustrade. | Continue reading
A whippoorwill interrupted by a screech owl falls silent after three attempts to steal back the stage. When the owl falls silent, a peeper calls. | Continue reading
Overcast and cool. Last night’s storm has left the Japanese stiltgrass sprawled this way and that, its stalks just beginning to turn red. | Continue reading
Just at the point where the half-moon loses its share of the shadows, a migrant thrush calls from the woods’ edge: a few soft notes, then silence. The sky turns […] | Continue reading
A nuthatch calling just inside the woods. From the barnyard, a Carolina wren. Chickadee in the yard. Then the sun comes up and it’s a party. | Continue reading
Through a hole in the forest canopy, a ray of sun illuminates one tall goldenrod in the springhouse meadow. An indescribably sweet odor of ripeness and rich earth. | Continue reading
A warm wind before dawn brings a feeling of dread for the coming week. The sound of a raccoon flipping rocks in the creek. | Continue reading
Clear and not as cool. A catbird mews from the lilac. Rays of sun in the canopy are astir with gossamer wings. | Continue reading
Clear, cold, and still. Two hours after sunrise, the sun finally strikes my face. Random chirps from migrant birds. The first cicada starts up. | Continue reading
Clear and cold. I hear a hummingbird below the porch, buzzing from one orange jewelweed goblet to the next. The sun must be up. | Continue reading
The full moon sits on the horizon, serenaded by cold crickets. Overhead, the Pleiades wink out one by one, leaving Jupiter alone in the crown of a locust. | Continue reading
The last stars gutter in the dawn light. Down-hollow, a juvenile whippoorwill practices its song—only half there. | Continue reading
Overcast. A low-key chase involving several squirrels takes place mostly behind a screen of leaves, unlike in January when their courtship is on full display. I listen while I clean my glasses. | Continue reading
Gray rain clouds thickening towards 8:00. It’s very still; long moments go by without a single bird call. A beetle finds its way to the butterfly weed. | Continue reading
Crystal-clear and still. At first light, the soft calls of wood thrushes, no doubt tired and hungry after their all-night flights. Pale crowds of snakeroot seem to glow. | Continue reading
A few minutes after six, a whippoorwill calls from just inside the woods. At the very same moment, the first mosquito of the day finds my ear. | Continue reading
After a soggy night, a few more raindrops and then some brightening. A vireo starts up. The lowest branch on the tulip tree has turned yellow. | Continue reading
Overcast and cool. A phoebe calls a few times from beyond the spring house and falls silent. As if in mockery, a pewee’s slower, more lilting response. | Continue reading
Cold at dawn, with the lightest of breezes bringing sounds from the east—mostly the limestone quarry’s dull roar. A screech owl trills. The clouds go pink. | Continue reading
A gray squirrel with a nearly white tail scampering up the road draws my attention to the white snakeroot—banks of it just coming into bloom. | Continue reading
Sun glimmering in a sky so light blue as to appear white. The Carolina wren’s motor sounds as if it’s running out of gas. Mosquitoes begin to circle. | Continue reading
Another autumnal dawn. A screech owl trills from just inside the woods. Crows head past en route to an angry mob. The fluting of geese. | Continue reading
Crystal-clear and cold: autumn’s first visit. A breeze sorting through the walnut leaves, a few of which are already yellow. | Continue reading
Just after 8:00, the sun breaks through the clouds and a breeze springs up. From the powerline, the hollow knocks of a pileated woodpecker breakfasting on ants. | Continue reading
Sunrise filling every cloud’s belly with pink as the Carolina wren trills over and over—once for each cloud, it seems. | Continue reading
A mosquito rests on the arm of my Adirondack chair, watching the sunrise. A hummingbird surprised by a sudden movement buzzes toward me rather than away. | Continue reading
Leaves glistening with last night’s rain. A distant raven. The puttering of a hummingbird’s small motor. | Continue reading
At ten minutes till sunrise, the first hummingbird buzzes in to the orange touch-me-nots. A wood thrush calls from the woods’ edge, but doesn’t sing. | Continue reading
Sun in the treetops. A Carolina wren keeps answering a flicker, as if trying to master its call. Tree crickets. A train horn. | Continue reading
Another brief shower as the sun almost breaks through. A wood pewee answers his own question. I count the yellowing bracken fronds in my yard. | Continue reading
Before the first birds, a thin, gaping moon. A last katydid stopping mid-creak. The whine of tires on the highway over the ridge. | Continue reading
It’s raining and I’m mesmerized by the radar map, its blue and purple blobs. When the downpour begins to abate, the first thing I hear is the twittering of goldfinches. | Continue reading
Clear and cool at sunrise. A phoebe’s bill snaps on a slow cranefly. From high overhead, the tolling of a bell soon turns into raven croaks. | Continue reading
Drizzle in the wind even as the sky brightens. Small patches of blue appear and disappear. A yellow leaf spirals down into the yard. | Continue reading
Showers intermittent as stragglers in a race. This morning’s porch may stretch into the afternoon, as long as my claps keep up with the mosquitoes. | Continue reading
A mosquito sings her dark need into my ear. Day advances like a slow machine of squeaking towhees and whirring wrens. | Continue reading
Cloudy, but the clouds are paper-thin, so the Carolina wren bobbing on a branch casts a thin shadow. | Continue reading
Cool, humid and overcast. A pair of hummingbirds sit side by side on a bare twig, the male rising and hovering behind the female every few seconds to copulate with a decorousness one might not have… | Continue reading
An orange moon gone slightly flat hangs in the southwest at dawn. An eight-point buck grazes under the old lilac. | Continue reading
My three-year-old tulip tree has extended one last, jaunty new leaf for the season. How tall it has grown on this summer’s thunderstorms! Not to mention all the extra CO2 in the air. | Continue reading
Sun glimmering through thin, high clouds. The distant rumble of a train. In the long grass, each drop of dew begins to shine. | Continue reading
Rising after the sun, I watch it illuminate section by section the complex structure of a funnel spider web. | Continue reading
Clear and cool. A migrant wood thrush calls softly at first light. It’s very still. Then the wrens wake up. | Continue reading
White sky with distant crows. The stiltgrass in the meadow is still lying low after a thunderstorm yesterday at dusk. | Continue reading
Another cool, humid morning. The hearty laughter of a pileated woodpecker interrupts my scrolling. | Continue reading
A wood thrush is singing in the distance. I shoo away the mosquito singing in my ear to listen. | Continue reading