The birds told me it was around. They did not like its quiet presence. It was hunched up at the top of the bank where there seems to be a little path for small animals. It was watching and waiting. At first I thought it was a big, dirty rock of white quartz.
The next day it was back near the same spot, sunning and preening. I was out pacing in the cold. I thought about how relaxed it seemed, not ferocious and wild. Maybe it is a wandering visitor instead of a feral intruder. How does one tell?
This morning I started out my front door to look for it. It slithered away from the warm wall of the carport and disappeared into the woods up the hill. I hope it is not here to eat my chipmunk friends.
No, I will not be feeding nor adopting the cat on the hill. I have my rules about wild things. I have other rules for feral things.
It is hard to put a value on my winter flowers. They are not expensive nor exotic. They are, however, treasures to me. I have to work to make it through winter. I must be part plant.
I need the sun. I am an outside dog. I must be under the sky, not under a roof. This winter has been kind so far, but cold will come. Then I will be inside trying to stay alive until spring.
My flowers keep me afloat. They brighten my rooms with their blooms. My colorful, little life rafts hold me up. The Schlumbergeras and amaryllis/hippeastrum save me until spring. For this I am grateful.
Our family has been driving past this over-the-top display of lighted figurines each Christmas Eve for years. It is on the way to my parents’ house. We had always looked forward to this eclectric, electric holiday show as part of our Christmas Eve traditions…and then it disappeared.
We were sad that one of our bright spots during the holidays had vanished. We lamented its removal… until several weeks ago. I was driving home from running errands. I stopped at a stop sign and looked left. I could not believe it! There they were! All our beloved characters were in a new location. I immediately texted the good news to my family.
There was the choir in the bleachers.
There were the snowmen.
The Gingerbread Village.
The Dickensonian carolers.
The penguins and the igloo.
Many Santas and snowmen.
Polar bears and brown bears.
The Nativity was separated from the fray in its own display.
All our beloved characters had moved to our county.
Close enough to visit numerous times.
I even braved getting out of my vehicle to photograph the scene.
I hope these folks know how appreciated this yard full of light is to others.