Forsythia in winter. . .

Finally, the look of winter! This being late January, I had begun to wonder, "What's the point?" Now I find myself breathing a contented sigh and looking forward to the three or four inch accumulation -- enough to provide a proper setting for our "bundling up" clothes and sleigh runners and enough for kids to frolic in. There's not so much frolicking going on in my yard these days. Most of the tracks, except for those leading to my front door, are those made by the wildlife living nearby or, occasionally, "Neighbor Cat" who helps to maintain the rodent population. Even if that's not so, I have given him the credit for fewer indoor “Tom and Jerry” chases between my cats and mice.

The bird feeder gets very busy this time of year and since it is positioned just outside a sliding glass door, Clementi and Clara are entertained and alert for hours on end by their own "100-inch flat screen in full HD." Entertainment for me comes when the birds hop along the porch floor right under the cats' noses or when they swoop in the air just above them. If I was quick enough to capture a shot of a cat's expression the split second after it has tried to lunge through the door, I would. I can understand that happening once or even twice, but the fact that they continue to repeat the process makes me wonder about them. I've heard about rooky deer hunters getting "buck fever" -- I guess my cats get "bird fever."

The forsythia bush we planted along the basement wall under the back porch has grown to be quite high now. I keep it pruned but have allowed it to grow high as an experiment to see the effect of weaving those upper branches around in the spindles of the porch rails. In the winter, the branches are bare, of course, and last spring and summer was the first year they were long enough for the leafy effect to be noticeable. This year, I'm hoping they will bloom full of the yellow blossoms that announce the official arrival of spring. Back when I was anticipating the spring and summer "look" I wanted, I imagined these off-season bare forsythia tops as bland and wondered if I would even want to see (what would appear to be) dead sticks wrapped around the railing. What purpose would there be in that? Would it be an eyesore? Well, as it turns out, the birds have claimed them as perches for their picnic area, creating an ever-changing tree full of life. The feathered companions now arrive in small flocks with no need to compete for space on the feeder perch and they have convenienced themselves further by choosing to drop down into the forsythia to enjoy their meals rather than make repeated round-trip flights between feeder and hemlocks that border the yard.

Watching the dormant branches of the forsythia as they have come unexpectedly to life reminds me of all that happens beneath the snow while all we can see is the surface. The same can be said of bodies of water -- brooks, rivers, ponds, lakes, or an ocean. Wherever I take time to look and whatever I see, I always hear it whispered, "There's more."