I suppose it's that time of year again. To look both backward and forward; to make resolutions and promises and open your eyes wide to the wonder of what will come next. This morning, the white world was whiter: covered in thick hoarfrost, fat and full and frozen. Chickadees flock to the frozen feeder, grabbing seed and flinging themselves to the top of the bird cherry. From the bedroom window I could see a bird with a very red body and strained to make out what it was; there are no cardinals here and the red-breasted robins aren't that red. Martin saw it too, but neither of us could get a clear glimpse to be sure. It didn't have the body or movements of a woodpecker, and I can't think of anything else with that much, that bright red, so stumped we'll stay, I guess.
Happy New Year!
I have no real resolutions; I know this game is too tenuous to bother putting into words. My promise to myself stands; that's what matters. For the rest, I shall look both behind and before me, ready for wonder whenever it comes.
EDITED TO ADD: I finally got the last post from our Italy trip up if anyone is still interested :) Perfect Pisa