This Mourning Dove waited for the right time to flutter to the ground and feed. It’s been a tough winter for songbirds and for all wildlife. I’m gratified to have been able to provide a little help for them. Like the birds, we wait for the snow to melt, wait for plants to begin greening, wait for spring.
Tuesday, the day before the storm, our dogs monitored the backyard. I love each of them, they are so different from one another, so unique.
Yesterday’s storm was a doozy, 15 cm of heavy snow fell in about eight hours. The wind picked up during the day, up to about 60 kilometers per hour or more. The last few klicks of my drive home was harrowing, I don’t care to do that again.
Faye was home and I was, am, grateful. Had she been working away from home I would have been full of worry and concern about her getting home. She cleared the deck, the dogs were safe and comfortable, she generously ensured that there was plenty of sunflower seed scattered for the birds hanging on through this (I hope!) last big storm.
She also took photos, including this remarkable image of snow in our chain link fence. Remarkable. Snow, a most ephemeral substance, gathering, piling, accumulating on the fences’ narrow round fabric despite the incredibly strong gusty wind.
. . . sparkling in the light.
I pruned our redbud tree a few weeks ago. In tree years the tree has grown from 3 to six feet and graces us with glorious colour every year. It needed pruning to open the structure up a little.
Faye read that you can bring a limb indoors and force it to bloom. Indeed that is happening. The buds have swelled noticeably, already adding welcome colour to our late winter household.
I almost broke my string of posts every day.
A less than enjoyable drive home today, visibility at times was close to zero in blowing and drifting snow. Had to dig myself out once, found myself on the wrong side of the road once. Was very, very glad to get home safe.
Many dogs I have known that were allowed in the kitchen during food prep look at the counter where you are at work. When Stella watches us work in the kitchen, she remains focused on the floor. That makes sense to me. After all, the floor is where the good stuff lands.
It’s about 6C today, sun is out now. A pleasant day.
Winter will remind us tomorrow that it’s not done, not gone yet. Snow begins overnight, perhaps 15cm by tomorrow night, strong north winds, temperature dropping throughout the day. We mewling humans cannot change this by one jot or iota. What we can do is to prepare physically, mentally, spiritually, and to accept what is coming. We don’t have to like it, we can grumble. We don’t have to prepare or even accept. I think it’s best to do so.
It’s good to be reminded that we are not all-powerful, to accept with grace our insignificance, to be humbled.
Faye and I drove by several abandoned houses yesterday. This one is unusual for our area in that it has wooden siding, most houses around here are brick.
I enjoy pondering the unknowns, the mysteries of such places. Who lived here? What were they like? How did they get along with their neighbours? How long did they live here? Why, and when, did they leave? What stories, lessons, does this place have to share?
Fire is powerful, captivating, sucks you in. I get lost in it, in my thoughts, memories, emotions. Neither good nor bad, simply lost.
This firelight came from a fire built by my brother-in-law years ago to boil maple sap down to syrup. This year’s season has not really started, days aren’t warm enough yet. Perhaps this week.
previouslytexan 