ICE ICE BABY
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....