Archive for the ‘co-conspirators’ Category

~new york minute~

Wednesday, August 2nd, 2017

I decide to skip the subway and walk north from City Hall–I’m only going a mile or so, what’s a little rain? Fat drops land on the sidewalk, leaving wet polka dots the size of silver dollars. It picks up. My shoes start to squish. As I pass the 6 train at Canal Street, I […]

~avian evidence~

Wednesday, July 12th, 2017

~knock on wood~

Thursday, July 6th, 2017

On the way back down from a midday run, I paused to see if my eyes had played tricks on me as I’d passed the lodge on my way up the valley. But indeed, there in the grass beneath the postbox was a woodpecker, a Yellow-Bellied Sapsucker. It sounds like a vaudevillian insult, but they aren’t chickenhearted, just burnished […]

~beartime story~

Thursday, June 29th, 2017

“You got yourself a big ol’ bear down by your mailbox,” says the Internet repair guy. He has a funny smile on his face I can’t read. “Biiig one, tearing it up down there.” “A bear is tearing up my mailbox?” “Well, not now,” he says, shrugging. “Fur’s all over that utility pole. Claw marks […]

~happy returns of the day~

Saturday, June 17th, 2017

Vintage car window decal score from Woodstock flea. Sometimes it still feels like image above, but sometimes it’s just like below.

~local wildlife~

Wednesday, June 7th, 2017

Garter snake suns by the post box.


Tuesday, June 6th, 2017

A field mouse snuck inside my dresser to plunder fluff from handmade socks, and wasps made their second nest of the season in our mailbox.  

~lawd, tennyson~

Tuesday, March 28th, 2017

“In the spring an old queen’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of easter egg fros.”

~crime scene redux~

Friday, March 10th, 2017

Three day’s time finds: thaw rescinded, hoodlums returned, and yrs truly craftily catching crow, mid-branch hop.

~no i in team~

Tuesday, March 7th, 2017

Random days of thaw have brought our winged neighbors out. The pond in the distance now hosts a gaggle of geese who loiter and honk and sleep on its surface, sometimes waking–as they did after this week’s overnight low of one degree–to find they must slide their webbed feet across ice to their breakfast. An Eastern Bluebird […]

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