This morning, as every morning, I am confronted by improbable things: that the downy woodpecker should be able to beat his head against a tree with machine-gun speed and fly away. That the squirrels of the daytime should fling themselves through the treetops with so much abandon and not turn their bodies into aerodynamic leaves like the squirrels of the night. That the sky should get so red — redder than wine, redder than blood — and then in the course of minutes fade so completely, leaving no trace of a stain.
I live in an Appalachian hollow in the Juniata watershed of central Pennsylvania, and spend a great deal of time walking in the woods. Here’s a bio. All of my writing here is available for reuse and creative remix under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License. For attribution in printed material, my name (Dave Bonta) will suffice, but for web use, please link back to the original. Contact me for permission to waive the “share alike” provision (e.g. for use in a conventionally copyrighted work).