Home in solitude, the three of us are huddled inside, watching the cold day progress. It's really quiet today.
I took the dogs out and brought the camera. I do take a lot of photos of the snow it seems, but it's like I feel compelled to capture the tranquility of it all. Even though it was a meager snowfall, less than 3 inches at most, it was just enough to clean up winter's mess, and to muffle the sounds of the day. Our christmas tree looks vibrant and alive. I hope it remains so until we can plant it.
The birds are all somewhere else. Husband hasn't been around to fill the feeders, and for some reason I can't bring myself to do it for him; as if by doing it, I'm making him less needed. What a silly notion.
This pine tree looks like how I feel lately.
In summer afternoons I like to sit on this bench underneath the huge leaves of the large-leaf maple bush behind it, and listen to the birds and the river. Now it looks so ghostly and alone.
The dogs were all too pleased to go inside, and stood by the door impatiently while I took a few more pictures.
Flower went straight to the fireplace. She has the right idea. A nice warm breakfast of scrambled eggs, tomato slices, some lox salmon and a mini-bagel with cream cheese to top it off, plus some tea blended by my dear friend's mother... This is a good Sunday.