Icy leaves, icy puddles, icy shadows

They must materialize from the soil. Just a minute ago I glanced over to that part of the property, and it was empty of visible...

In the patch of garden between our tiny house and Merrynook, a Hermit Thrush — furtive, skulking — appears, reappears, disappears. Moist...

Outside the cabin, as I rush from one task to the next, an improbably wet sound overhead. Bird wings, but as if they were flying through...

We call them “pie birds.” Birds so common that surely they wouldn’t be missed if four-and-twenty of them got baked in a pie. Snarky...