February 1, 2009

This is the bridge over [Well, first, you have to know that different parts of the yard have names: the Middle, Bear Garden, the Coldest Part of the Yard, Flea Forest, the Corn-er, etc. We didn’t consciously name them, it just happened over time. One day I lamented that the agricultural drainage ditch didn’t have a name and that it should receive its name in a special way -- we needed a critter sighting. I kid you not, the very moment I said it, I looked down and there she sat, in the mud beneath the trees at the edge of the water, all green and croaky; hence the name,] Little Frog Creek. It runs from the Point to the North End path.

That blue-gold-pink thing that snow does is so pretty!

A loud BAM got O's attention; a Cooper's Hawk had hit the front window. The bird took a few minutes to catch his breath and flew away.
Lone Goose has been alone on the river for days and weeks, through storm and cold and ice and wind and dark of night. This week, a friend arrived to keep him/her company. Where did the second goose come from? Why wasn’t s/he with a flock? How did s/he find Alone-No-More Goose? What are their stories?

Another week through the kitchen window