Greetings from Maryland

Greetings from Maryland, where the snow is deep and the skies are blue. I’m pleased to tell you that the power is still on and that I haven’t yet gone crazy from the isolation that living here on the hill provides.

This morning I went up to the third floor, opened a window and took these two photos, hoping to show you what I mean by being isolated when it snows like this.

We live on a hill that’s gradual incline all the way up the driveway. It’s a lot to plow.

You can see where the driveway had been plowed Tuesday, can’t you?. We got another 16 inches on top of that and now the sun has begun its work at packing it down. The driveway curves to the left and half of it continues through woods until it comes out to the main road.

This morning, my husband took the chainsaw down on a sled he made, cutting down a couple of small trees that had fallen and clearing branches for the plow when it comes. I hope it comes today . . . I have plans for tomorrow.

This is looking out the window and off to the south. It’s difficult to tell from here but the snow is deep. If you were walking in it with no trail, say starting at the edge of the driveway and walking towards the big fir tree in the center there, you would sink almost up to mid-thigh.

There are trails all around the house and around the property. One is a cross-country ski trail which I stay off of and the other is a series of trails my husband and George made. They’re really quite nice to walk on and you don’t sink as far down.

And now for some bird action from my kitchen window. Because this is the only thing that’s really going on around here. Well this and flying slingshot superhero squirrels. And puzzles. And snacking. And oh, don’t even get me started on the snacking.

Male dark-eyed junco. What a sweet little bird.

Nuthatch. They walk upside down on the tree limbs. And they never seem to stay still, always twitching hither and thither.

It’s difficult capturing bird photos. They move so darn fast.

Now you see this female cardinal . . .

Then she’s gone.

The blue jays arrived in gangs this morning. They are such thugs, I tell you, jumping all over and clearing out all the other birds. “Hey, youse little chirps, this here’s our territory. So make like a tree and leave, why dontcha.”

And the little birds always scatter. Nobody wants to mess with the jays, man.

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So how are things in your neck of the woods? You probably don’t have talking birds, do you?

‘til next time, my friends . . .