No complaints

Winter’s determination is still strong. This morning I awake to about 7 inches of new, powdery snow and temperatures that are 50 degrees colder than last Friday. A few hours after I took these early morning photos, the sky cleared, and the day turned a bright, brilliant blue.

I am up early, shoveling paths to the bird feeders and the chickens. The snow is just a tad too deep to broom away, but it’s a close call. A larger broom than I have and one with stiffer bristles might work just fine.

The feeder birds are awaiting bird seed before I am properly dressed. While I shovel the deck, they call from the safety of the nearby trees, as though announcing that progress towards the arrival of their food is finally underway. Juncos sit on nearby branches, each apparently determined to be the first at the feeders whenever I retreat to the cabin. They aren’t willing to go the feeder before I leave the deck, but don’t want me out of their sight, as though they won’t wait even a single second once I am safely gone.

The dogs, once again, turn into crazy hellions at the sight of the snow. What is it about snow that makes a dog forget its name, let alone any other words? Even the old dog, who is as smart as a whip, forgets (or ignores) everything I have ever taught him. Some other instinct holds him when it snows and that one doesn’t involve people.

For me, the snow means a walk down the mountain to my car. I leave the cabin before the snow plows arrive, lugging my snow shovel and lunch. The walk is about a quarter of a mile, the morning quiet and still. When I head out, the morning is still grey with clouds, the snow pretty much the same shade as the clouds.

 A snow morning walk is a pretty good way to start the day and I have no complaints.