Nicola Pitchford
@npitchford.bsky.social
Immigrant. Winner of the inaugural Nature Chronicles Prize (2022). She/her. In Northern California on unceded Coast Miwok land.
That shrinking, weaselly yellow dawn has found its full confidence now. Bring on the volcano.
November 19, 2025 at 3:09 PM
That shrinking, weaselly yellow dawn has found its full confidence now. Bring on the volcano.
Morning creeps in, yellowgrey, flattening itself.
November 19, 2025 at 2:41 PM
Morning creeps in, yellowgrey, flattening itself.
You also inspired me to wear my favourite sweater-vest today. For sisters & also Sisters.
November 18, 2025 at 8:35 PM
You also inspired me to wear my favourite sweater-vest today. For sisters & also Sisters.
Tuesday dawn. The wild turkey has been calling repeatedly; when the light comes, the hawk starts crying too. Someone rode a motorcycle down the hill road before 6, sound winding away in receding curves.
November 18, 2025 at 2:52 PM
Tuesday dawn. The wild turkey has been calling repeatedly; when the light comes, the hawk starts crying too. Someone rode a motorcycle down the hill road before 6, sound winding away in receding curves.
This morning’s sunrise photo. Drizzle drifts across in blurry gusts, the far water of the Bay glows dully silver. A hawk cries, followed by angry crows. When the leaf litter scuttles over the skylights from north to south, I wonder whether it’s creatures scurrying.
November 16, 2025 at 2:47 PM
This morning’s sunrise photo. Drizzle drifts across in blurry gusts, the far water of the Bay glows dully silver. A hawk cries, followed by angry crows. When the leaf litter scuttles over the skylights from north to south, I wonder whether it’s creatures scurrying.
View from the new house, part II.
November 16, 2025 at 12:28 AM
View from the new house, part II.
(Don’t) Let me know when I start boring you.
Perhaps I can make this a game, to write a few sunrise words every* morning. (*Rain due tomorrow.)
Perhaps I can make this a game, to write a few sunrise words every* morning. (*Rain due tomorrow.)
November 15, 2025 at 2:52 PM
(Don’t) Let me know when I start boring you.
Perhaps I can make this a game, to write a few sunrise words every* morning. (*Rain due tomorrow.)
Perhaps I can make this a game, to write a few sunrise words every* morning. (*Rain due tomorrow.)
First dawn view from the new home. You’re going to be seeing a lot of these. Also, I heard owls — so perhaps I won’t miss the redwoods outside the house too badly.
November 15, 2025 at 2:21 PM
First dawn view from the new home. You’re going to be seeing a lot of these. Also, I heard owls — so perhaps I won’t miss the redwoods outside the house too badly.
On a lighter note... Don't let the fact that you're onstage at a professional gathering keep you from showing off your @weratedogs.com sticker.
November 13, 2025 at 6:34 PM
On a lighter note... Don't let the fact that you're onstage at a professional gathering keep you from showing off your @weratedogs.com sticker.
Well. It’s possible I’ve seen more exciting & evocative things than the Aurora as rendered by my iPhone.
November 12, 2025 at 4:59 AM
Well. It’s possible I’ve seen more exciting & evocative things than the Aurora as rendered by my iPhone.
The sky is lavender-pink in all four directions. It truly feels like physical nourishment. Not a presence; but food.
November 11, 2025 at 2:43 PM
The sky is lavender-pink in all four directions. It truly feels like physical nourishment. Not a presence; but food.
Keep thinking of your wee spud when I see my late aunty's vintage Scotty, who was handed down first to her younger sister (my mum) & subsequently to me. I think this well-loved fellow is approaching 100, so his stuffing has moved a bit with gravity & there's grey in his fur. But who amongst us....
November 11, 2025 at 1:16 AM
Keep thinking of your wee spud when I see my late aunty's vintage Scotty, who was handed down first to her younger sister (my mum) & subsequently to me. I think this well-loved fellow is approaching 100, so his stuffing has moved a bit with gravity & there's grey in his fur. But who amongst us....
And then there’s the view from my (lovely) office. Just perfect autumn light & colour today.
(Please do not expect me to get work done.)
(Please do not expect me to get work done.)
November 10, 2025 at 6:02 PM
And then there’s the view from my (lovely) office. Just perfect autumn light & colour today.
(Please do not expect me to get work done.)
(Please do not expect me to get work done.)
Or walking into a room when you’re leaving soon
November 10, 2025 at 2:51 PM
Or walking into a room when you’re leaving soon
That moment on the threshold of leaving a room.
November 10, 2025 at 2:46 PM
That moment on the threshold of leaving a room.
The morning sky is feeding me.
November 10, 2025 at 2:39 PM
The morning sky is feeding me.
Outstanding pull quote
November 10, 2025 at 1:40 PM
Outstanding pull quote
Windy & golden on the big hill this morning. The sickle (or scimitar) shape of a small hawk hangs immobile above me, partner in blue to the receding moon. Where the trees lean close to the trail, clusters of tiny bushtits squeaking.
November 9, 2025 at 3:41 PM
Windy & golden on the big hill this morning. The sickle (or scimitar) shape of a small hawk hangs immobile above me, partner in blue to the receding moon. Where the trees lean close to the trail, clusters of tiny bushtits squeaking.
I never grew deeply attached to this generous-but-always-temporary house, yet I do keep thinking of how these beautiful views over the garden filled my mother’s final weeks. And I’m grateful.
(Those are the garden steps where I broke my wrist.)
(Those are the garden steps where I broke my wrist.)
November 9, 2025 at 2:40 PM
I never grew deeply attached to this generous-but-always-temporary house, yet I do keep thinking of how these beautiful views over the garden filled my mother’s final weeks. And I’m grateful.
(Those are the garden steps where I broke my wrist.)
(Those are the garden steps where I broke my wrist.)
A grey, drizzly, thoroughly British morning. But there are coyotes whooping somewhere on the hill, the roadsides are glowing with fiery leaves & the California buckeye trees have hung out their bright baubles.
November 7, 2025 at 3:28 PM
A grey, drizzly, thoroughly British morning. But there are coyotes whooping somewhere on the hill, the roadsides are glowing with fiery leaves & the California buckeye trees have hung out their bright baubles.
Maybe there’s a little bit of magic in the air tonight.
November 5, 2025 at 1:27 AM
Maybe there’s a little bit of magic in the air tonight.
Also playing dress-up for the day.
C’mon CA & NYC let’s go.
C’mon CA & NYC let’s go.
November 4, 2025 at 5:00 PM
Also playing dress-up for the day.
C’mon CA & NYC let’s go.
C’mon CA & NYC let’s go.
I am an immigrant & I vote. Fear me.
(Privileged to be a citizen also.)
(Privileged to be a citizen also.)
November 4, 2025 at 3:12 PM
I am an immigrant & I vote. Fear me.
(Privileged to be a citizen also.)
(Privileged to be a citizen also.)
Grateful today for the regathering-in of the morning light — & for the clean clear whistled notes of the golden-crowned sparrow (no kings but), with its accrued layers of winter memory.
November 3, 2025 at 2:55 PM
Grateful today for the regathering-in of the morning light — & for the clean clear whistled notes of the golden-crowned sparrow (no kings but), with its accrued layers of winter memory.
Oh yes, the autumn light from this window. I had forgotten. It feels lonely to me, makes me think of my mother in this room.
November 3, 2025 at 1:42 AM
Oh yes, the autumn light from this window. I had forgotten. It feels lonely to me, makes me think of my mother in this room.