Outside my window, snow is pummeling the landscape. Tree branches bend under the weight of the fluffy white stuff, and the dulled roar of snow blowers fills the block, layered with the scrape of shovels on pavement. I’ve already been out once to clear a path—and there’s no doubt another round or two will be needed as the storm presses on.
Of course, I enjoy it. Maybe not in such heavy doses—or in doses that demand double or triple the shoveling—but I do find it beautiful, and endlessly interesting to photograph.
I don’t mind the cold much, though I’m also not out living in it. This morning I noticed birds huddled deep within our discarded Christmas tree, clumps of snow adding an extra layer of insulation as our feathered friends do their best to stay out of the elements. With all the shoveling activity between our neighbors and us, there hasn’t been much bird traffic beyond the ever-present pigeons and house sparrows. Hopefully, once things quiet down, I’ll have more to report.
For now, tossing seed onto the ground is senseless—it’s buried within minutes. The hanging feeders are stocked, though, and I can only hope they offer enough sustenance for anyone hungry enough to brave the barrage of snowflakes.