January 16, 2013 § Leave a comment
January 12, 2013 § 1 Comment
I live in the upstairs of a big, old house, and through my kitchen window, I have a perfect view of the tree canopies and the wildlife that dwell there. The trees are bare, now. It is winter, and the morass of gaunt, quavering tree branches shroud the chrome sky like an ancient, unfurling tapestry. I love the quiet mettle of every living thing during winter. The songbirds who stay are nothing but quiet, however. Despite the cold, the grey, the buttoned up-ness, they flitter about, hopping from shadowy perch to shadowy perch, singing madly. There is always cause for jubilation, they remind me, even when the day is grim.