Thursday, February 8, 2018

Groundhog Blues


There stands the woodpile
on another subzero morning
prime number minus nineteen

Only a single cord left to process
under its snowy shroud
yet a mountainous metaphor
of every undone ambition

Surely a song hides there
lurking inside the birch
with thoughts of the paddle
and the cast
light years ahead



Saturday, January 20, 2018

Friday, January 19, 2018

Dogs At Play


 The real January thaw has arrived
at 42 degrees
just shy of madness

Saturday, January 6, 2018

Heat Wave or Summer Dreamin'

This morning's temperature was minus twenty two. Then steadily it warmed throughout the day toward ten degrees on the plus side of the scale.  Warmest weather since Christmas Day.

This past August, while checking out the hazel nut crop, I encountered this bald faced hornet's nest. Unseen in the dense foliage, I got too close and was drilled twice before I knew what was up. Stands out pretty well now.  I might consider trading that day for this one - stings and all.

Wednesday, January 3, 2018

Deader 'en a smelt


More on the origins of that phrase later.

Indeed it pertains to the condition of the deer that we encountered last night.

Today's report:
A mature buck, with recently shed antlers
Body condition thin
Open wound in right shoulder
Broken bone visible inside the shoulder wound
No fresh bleeding observed in snow around the deathbed
No signs of animal disturbance

I did not attempt a necropsy to determine further causal factors.
No time to do any detailed investigation on my lunch break
And it is still below zero
-9 at the time the pix were snapped.

Tuesday, January 2, 2018

Killer Cold

 

It has been cold all over the place since Christmas Day
No news there
But that does not make perils
any less likely
where ever you are
cold comfort

Just before dark the temp drops
From a high of eight degrees
for the dogs and I walking the ridge trail
and on down toward the lake
excercising before the subzero night clamps down

Birdy, just below the rim of the ridge
noses full of something
in the lee
I see a bedded deer fifty yards ahead
"Whoa boys"
They stop. The deer stands.
The dogs look to me
"Come home boys"

This big bodied deer is not right
it does not flee
something surely is amiss
Home we go, and the deer watches our departure
I wonder if it is old, sick, wounded
or just all played out from ten days below the doughnut

I go back after dark, sans dogs
and clicking on LEDs
as the supermoon has not yet risen

Near enough to where I remember
I approach
closer, closer

Head down, sprawled
The deer lies
Dead?

I'll be back in the daylight