Last night there was much clacking and clicking at the windows. Today we awoke to this sight. Even fierce gusts could not dislodge the white burden from each branch. Fortunately, unlike reported situations further west, we do not have such a burden that limbs are breaking. So it is mostly pretty, the children are out of school and sledding, and traffic is interrupted. A day snatched from routine. A snow day.
The bird activity was great around the feeders, and the feathered creatures look pretty sitting up in branches with the snow. The grey and yellow birds were the most frantic, and had the largest numbers to quarrel about the feeder perches, with the largest and yellowest usually getting their way. Like some people. But the others wait patiently and there is a turn for all.
These days of quiet and snow are good for thinking. A gentle pensiveness. Memories come unbidden, of other snows, of younger children, of your own childhood. My childhood had no snow in it, of this I can assure you. If Etienne had not been keen on getting these photos with moi in the snow, I am not sure either of us would have been out here. But it is pretty, I will admit.