A hummingbird friend

I arose to a new snowfall this morning. We will have no shortage; it seems, of water this year. It lasted a little over three hours but was not a deterrent to the squirrels, the birds, or my high spirits.

At nine the sun was out and as I open my front door to an in my face encounter with a hummingbird that came to call. It was as if he had two messages, "Spring is coming"and "where is my food." I have not put out any hummingbird feeders, as yet, not having expected them so soon. It is time to rethink my expectations. The little gold freesias bloomed yesterday, another sign of spring. I took my trusty shovel and expeditiously cleared my driveway, the berm, my car, and my stairway. It was good to be out and exercising and meditating in rhythm.

Ron, the carpenter, came to measure for my staircase handrail and to have me select my preference of wood color. It is time for me to get busy painting the stairwell before the rail is installed. I left off after it painted half of the entryway and have not resumed.

The drive to the post office is an outing I look forward to and I try to make it a time of exploring my new area as well, both to acclimate and admire. This time I was able to cruise the hills at a leisurely pace, to pause at the side of the road when I saw an eye-catching view and to attempt to capture it on film: pictures of the houses nestled in deep valleys with the snow-covered mountains in the background, of winding roads climbing through the forested heights, cloud enveloped mountain caps, and the sheer beauty of God's country. Another time I will return to catch the images of houses clinging to pinnacles. Last night I was concentrating on cloud formations.

Snow flurries started again once I arrived home. There is a deep haze hanging between the mountains and the back deck, so thick it seems as if it could be separated with any object or perhaps blown further away if you could take a deep enough breath. Small icicles have started to form on the tree branches and the birds hopping on the branches left uncovered sent some bobbing like crystals. The birds themselves seem as if nature ornaments until they move. The new snow looks like powdered sugar the edges of the hill while the driveway is still clear. The air stings like tiny arrows through my skin, driving me indoors, where once again I'm greeted by the warmth of my fireplace.

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