Seasonal observations

We live in strange and interesting times. Usually a pileated woodpecker feeds on the suet chunks in the suet feeder. Not this morning. The pileated was turning that long, tall body sideways trying to get at the coarse sunflower chips in the “squirrel-buster” feeder. Unfortunately for the woodpecker, its size and weight were sufficient to close the feeding ports, the way it’s supposed to work with squirrels. Meanwhile, right next to the “squirrel-buster,” a tiny red-breasted nuthatch was feeding on the suet. I stood watching and scratching my head.

pileated woodpecker on suet feeder

Photo by J. Harrington

My trip into the big city failed to produce the results I had gone seeking. The local book store’s web site yesterday said a book I wanted was on their shelves. It wasn’t when I arrived late this morning. My drive along Grand Avenue was traffic-laden and it seems the city is losing much of its character to new development. I had a similar observation as I drove through Stillwater to check out Valley Booksellers. Backordered there. On the bright side, I saw stretches of the country (and city) side I’ve not visited for months. Passing a few of the small beef-raising operations closer to home, I was reminded of the animals in the stable at the inn in Jerusalem. so the entire trip wasn’t a downer.

Back home I was attacked by a handful of the Better Half’s orange Christmas cookies. Using my teeth and tongue in a savage defense, I survived the attack and am on standby should the Christmas cookie rebellion become active again. As the tough folks say “Bring it on!” 

The tippy Christmas tree seems to be stabilized. Lights and ornaments are ever so slowly being added. The dreariness of the weather and the urban settings won’t dampen out spirits. We did get to notice the St. Croix, immediately upstream of downtown Stilllwater, is ice covered bank to bank. That means we can now look forward to the return of open water next spring. Remember, there are only 89 days between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. Thank you, February!

“Your Luck Is About To Change”

By Susan Elizabeth Howe

(A fortune cookie)

Ominous inscrutable Chinese news 

to get just before Christmas, 

considering my reasonable health, 

marriage spicy as moo-goo-gai-pan, 

career running like a not-too-old Chevrolet. 

Not bad, considering what can go wrong: 

the bony finger of Uncle Sam 

might point out my husband, 

my own national guard, 

and set him in Afghanistan; 

my boss could take a personal interest; 

the pain in my left knee could spread to my right. 

Still, as the old year tips into the new, 

I insist on the infant hope, gooing and kicking 

his legs in the air. I won't give in 

to the dark, the sub-zero weather, the fog, 

or even the neighbors' Nativity. 

Their four-year-old has arranged 

his whole legion of dinosaurs 

so they, too, worship the child, 

joining the cow and sheep. Or else, 

ultimate mortals, they've come to eat 

ox and camel, Mary and Joseph, 

then savor the newborn babe.

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