It is November 15 and the snow is falling rapidly. We’ve already exceeded the initial accumulation projections of 1-3″. The forecasters are continually upgrading one inch at a time. We are now likely to receive up to 8″
Luckily, I’m enjoying the first snowfall of my retirement — I can stay home and watch the birds hassle each other over the seed in the feeders, and put on my traditional pot of chili that I always make on the first day of snow.
What a miracle it is to be able to watch the delicate flakes accumulate in soft piles. What a blessing to watch the different species of birds with various colors accenting their feathers and differing patterns of spots/stripes/stippling on their bellies. The goldfinches are my favorites. They are emptying the niger and thistle feeder as I write. All 6 perches are occupied and pity the poor bird who takes a moment to turn her head away from the seed port to survey the hungry birds waiting their turn. She is likely to be divebombed by an anxious juvenile who has decided not to wait politely for her to finish, but to scare her off her perch and claim it for her own.
What a miracle to see clearly with eyes enhanced by glasses. To see without the cloud of macular degeneration or the blindness of glaucoma. It is a miracle to see the varieties of birds and to identify and name them one by one: house finches, juncos, tufted titmice, black capped chicadee (gymnasts of the feeder crowd), cardinals, tanagers, and more.
Gratitude fills me as I sit here watching. May I remember the miracle of this time of life, of clear sight, of a snowy day with no where to be except watching the buffet and its takers outside.
Pilgrimages and Paths 