Cold Feet


Woke up gently his morning, looked out the window into the half light. It was snowing, just started, small flakes falling straight down, barely beginning to cover the dead brown leaves on the forest floor. I stayed in bed watching the snow fall and the ground turn more white as the snow accumulated. Peaceful and beautiful.

Later, I went outside to feed the birds. The stairs were blanketed in a pure, fresh coating of snow maybe half an inch think, individual crystalline flakes catching and refracting the filtered, grey morning sunlight. The two bottom steps and the flagstone below had bird prints on them. Tiny, perfect, delicate, imprints of Chick-a-Dee’s and Junco’s feet, 3 miniature toes and claws, two feet, all in straight lines as they hopped around looking for seeds. How do they keep from freezing? My toes turn blue just thinking about running barefoot through the snow (although I do exactly that at least once a year, just to put my own foot prints in the snow!) These hardy little birds keep our indoor house cats (and me) entertained all year. Minuscule tracks in the snow, tiny hearts beating swiftly, warm blood coursing through wild wings, winter rages, and life perseveres!


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