5:02 a.m. 49 degrees, wind E 1 mph. Sky: a rose and silver dawn. In the east over the pond, half of a moon shines like a newly minted quarter; peers through threadbare clouds, whose wispy patches fray along the edges; meteorological brush strokes. Mist rises above the wetlands and pond, driftless . . . my world softened as if looking through an ephemeral screen. Permanent streams, barely a current, begin to pool; quiet water, quiet enough for water striders to dimple the surface without being swept away. Wild iris in bloom, blue laced with gold, the medallions of saturated earth. Merganser and chicks back in the wetland. To the north, somewhere over Lake Fairlee, an outbound loon wails, one long, poignant, transformative cry . . . the morning graced.
Most notable songbird: red-eyed vireo, relentless repetitions, audio water-boarding. Winter wren sings with less enthusiasm than a month ago; almost a whisper. The enthusiasm of ovenbirds dwindling; keep more to themselves; now, sequestered in roofed-over nests; setting a good example for those of us still quarantined. The rising buzz of a black-throated blue warbler; black-throated green as still as stone. Chestnut-sided warbler flies out of an alder, a green caterpillar crosswise in his bill. Mincingly, a robin hops down the road, scavenging last night's carnage of crippled June bugs that had bounced off windshields. Background vocals: least, alder, and great-crested flycatchers; pewee; phoebe; crow, a family on the wing speaks in tongues; evening and rose-breasted grosbeaks. Tanager hushed. Blue jays grandstand.
Adventuring at home, dooryard mysteries. Joyful walking. But I do miss travel, Colorado, in particular, where Casey and my daughter-in-law Becky live on the edge of red-rock canyons, where the Colorado River helms their world as the Connecticut helms of mine. Thinking about them as I wander down the road, an eternal longing. I’m a pandemic prisoner. Vermont to Colorado: six months walking, three days driving, five hours flying. Instantly with Zoom, which I've figured out how to use . . . sort of.