In the frozen saltmarsh
nothing moves
but three foraging crows.
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A poet and naturalist tries to find poetry in every day
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Blog Archive
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2014
(356)
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March
(31)
- March 31: Neighbors
- March 30: The hawk counter's dreams
- March 29: Hawk Watch
- March 28: Spring Snowy Owl
- March 26: Big wind
- March 25: Pierced ears
- March 24: Early spring
- March 23: Morning star
- March 22: Spring alarm clock
- March 21: Closer to home
- March 20: Vernal Equinox
- March 19: The night before spring begins
- March 18: Snowshine
- March 17: Vulture
- March 16: Forced forsythia
- March 15: In memory of Phoebe
- March 14: Lo, on high, yon Bald Eagle!
- March 13: Life in a snow globe
- March 12: Cloning extinct species
- March 11: Slowly the lawn is revealed
- March 11: Dabbling ducks
- March 10: Returning
- March 9: Conjunction
- March 8: We open a window for the first time this ...
- March 7: Mill sunset
- March 6: Starry starry night
- March 5: Found in a snow drift
- March 4: At the window
- March 3: Scarborough Marsh
- March 2: Portland, from the fish piers
- March 1: A friend's new work space
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March
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About Me
- Kristen Lindquist
- Camden, Maine
- I am a birder, poet, and writer most interested in animals, vegetables, and minerals, living in my hometown in Midcoast Maine.
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