At some ungodly hour, I glance at the radar: the dread of freezing rain, unexpectedly. Slow Short Dawn TR the tannery raven doesn’t start its racket until 7:19 AM, and never appears despite 20 minutes of cries, honking, croaking, the whole repertoire. It’s in the mid-to-upper thirties and the rain has changed to gentle and ice-free, but it’s still a stretch to think much will be about.
The First Waxwing of January
The First Waxwing of January
The First Waxwing of January
At some ungodly hour, I glance at the radar: the dread of freezing rain, unexpectedly. Slow Short Dawn TR the tannery raven doesn’t start its racket until 7:19 AM, and never appears despite 20 minutes of cries, honking, croaking, the whole repertoire. It’s in the mid-to-upper thirties and the rain has changed to gentle and ice-free, but it’s still a stretch to think much will be about.