Friday, February 14, 2014


Seeing as how it's Valentine's Day and all, I'll keep this brief and simply let the photo do most of the talking. 

I hadn't been paying attention to the weather news, and such a blizzardy snowstorm late this afternoon came as quite a surprise…something like 3 inches in not much over an hour. Doubtless it's really snarled traffic and spoiled more than a few romantic evening plans.  

Not ours, however. Myladylove and I had already planned dinner by the fireside—which I have ready. Don't know about the ducks, though. 


Thursday, February 13, 2014


Bright sun, a clear blue sky, and morning temperatures that have currently soared to a balmy 14˚F, may be partly to blame for the increased activity level of the gray squirrels I've been amusedly watching. But mostly, these daily treetop chases—reckless exhibitions of high-speed pursuits and flying jumps—come in response to a deep, interior tugging bred into their genetic makeup, a primal call stirred by the season’s eternal rhythms, one which ignores February’s cold and snow for the ongoing exigencies of the species.

Such antics, you see, aren’t mere play, nor has the cold induced some contagious gray-squirrel lunacy. Their zany high jinks are due to the behavioral drive reflecting the urgency of procreation.

These snow-bound midwinter days mark the start of the gray squirrel's mating season. For the next few weeks they'll be as interested in romance as they are in pilfering my backyard feeders—conducting vigorous courtships played out among sky-high limbs and branches. 

Then, from mid-March through April, amid the cozy darkness of a hollow sycamore, the resulting young will be born—though I'm not apt to catch sight of them venturing outside their lofty dens until a month or more later.

This is the way of gray squirrels as it has been since time immemorial. The earth speaks and wild things listen, responding to an ancient message that whispers of future life and coming spring…a sort of atavistic faith. 

Belief is easy when you listen to your heart.  

Monday, February 10, 2014


I'm just sitting here in my comfortable cocoon of woodstove warmth, looking out at the setting sun and the sparkling interplay of light and shadows on ice and snow and water along the river. Everywhere surprising hues of golds and greens, yellows and fiery oranges, blues and violets and royal purples. A paintbox full of glorious color where most would expect the scene to be rendered in strictly black and white.

It's been awhile since my last post. Why puzzles even me. I truly don't know. Laziness, most likely. Certainly not apathy. Or lack of time…though energy has occasionally been hard to muster. Possibly I suffer from some heretofore recessive gene now manifesting and given to whispering incessantly, urging me to partake of hibernation's joys.

I have been reading and thinking and sitting around a lot. But not doing much extra snoozing that I notice. On the other hand, Myladylove says I'm turning into something of a bear, though I'm not sure that's recent news. Truth be told, I've been something of a bear most of my life; age has simply refined rather than mellowed these predilections.

At any rate, rest assured or be forewarned—I have every intention to get back to my sorta-regular posting frequency. If not this week, then next, or at least as soon as I can kick-start my currently oscitant spirit.