Wednesday, January 28, 2026, -8.1* F, 61% RH, 0754
Ice in the track required both hands to slide the glass allowing the three access to their fenced-in shrinking land. I stood on the deck watching. Staccato of a Woodpecker the only sound. Last night part of a moon, satellites, ribbons of clouds, not many stars.
The three head for the door when I go to the kitchen for a pitcher of water to refill humidifier. Eyes closed half sleeping half listening now for sound of my computer glasses on wooden desk signaling end of writing, time to go out, time for breakfast.
I have seen photographs of snowflakes, cut them out of paper as a child, hung wooden laser-carved snowflakes on the tree, over a wooden angel on the table. Until Monday night I had never seen snowflakes like these. I had seen snowflakes drifting from above shaped like flakes of cereal or like arrows falling straight down. Monday night as I turned on the porch light to clear the deck before bed, snow was still falling. It looked like sequins. Tiny, delicate shapes. I should have taken more pictures.
Wonder is given to each of us.
Photo: LJ Austin
