We had a big snow storm yesterday. Prolly about 5” in The People’s Republic, as measured by the top of the table carved out by the heated bird bath.
Sleet started dropping around 0900; by 1300 it was coming
down like steady rain.
Forecast is for days of never-above (or even approaching) the
freeze point, so I reckon I’m not getting out of here in my car for a while.
The weather also restricts my cardio workout, because no
one’s responsible for clearing the sidewalks on public streets around here, so
morning walks would be more danger than benefit. I have to wait until it
unfreezes long enough to melt and dry away all the snow.
Still—I have provisions, heat and power; at time of writing
I have detected no frozen pipes, so I’m doing really quite well.
I also have a bin of safflower seed, handfuls of which I
toss out on the patio about every hour. And the birds who’ve congregated to
tank up at the Bas Bleu Snack Bar—the juncos, blue jays, sparrows, finches,
chickadees, downies, cardinals, wrens, nuthatches, titmice and even the doves—are my
gratitude today. Because I spent hours, snuggled under an afghan crocheted by
my sister’s late mother-in-law and sipping my way through a pot of tea, just
watching them dancing in the unexpected largesse of food. (And also the
unfrozen source of water.) The sparrows, especially, made me smile, because
they were all fluffed-up little balls against the cold.
After the horror that was Saturday in Minneapolis, those birds
saved my soul.
©2026 Bas Bleu
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