Winter Sustenance

With all the snow we've had, the creatures outside still need to eat. Amy has been filling our bird feeders almost daily, which is not an easy task when the snow is up to her hip. Even in the middle of the snowstorms the chickadees, nuthatches and other birds have been swarming to the seed feeders, and the juncos and other ground-feeding birds have been picking up what falls to the ground. After our last snowfall the squirrels had a feast -- the snow was up to the bottom of the bird feeder outside my window, and squirrels could sit and happily scoop seed out to their heart's contentment.

Sarah spotted this rabbit out my window at about 11:00 at night. We had turned out the outside floodlight to watch the snow start, and as we watched the flakes come down she noticed the bunny grabbing a quick bite before the ground-cover disappeared under another snow.

Many of the birds have, like this flicker, been frequenting the suet feeder, which provides particularly high-energy food. I even saw two crows struggling to eat from the suet feeder, even though they are really too big to perch on the little suet cage. I watched one crow try to fly away, but unable to get its big wings beating fast enough, it flopped onto the snow before it could get itself organized.

We have been responding to the weather as well in our cuisine at home. For Sarah's birthday, I made bread (with butter, one of my preferred "high energy foods"), and roasted vegetable soup garnished with parmesan, condimento balsamic vinegar, and gougères (I use the recipe from the New Basics cookbook, although I substitute cheddar for most of the other cheese). As I write this, I am making my fourth (fifth?) batch of roasted vegetable soup of the winter. Yum.

Other desires emerge in the winter as well, including a longing for the colors of spring. I am finding it hard to walk by the spring flowers in the grocery store without bringing them home to brighten our winter table!

Almost black and white

This is a color photograph taken during the big snowstorm that hit Connecticut last week. (It was pretty big for us - over a foot of snow! although I know those of you in Norway or upstate New York are not impressed.) During the storm, all color seemed to vanish. Everything outside seemed to be black and white.

The snow sat on the lilac branches outside my desk window.

When the sun came out, snow melted off the roof and then refroze before it hit the ground. We have had three- and four-foot long icicles hanging from the rain gutters. The icicles are a different kind of contrast, between opacity and clarity.

The day after the snow stopped, I went out skiing in the early morning. Even without much color, the snow seemed to glow in the slanted light.

The young trees, lit from the side by the dawn, cast long straight shadows across the snow.

Finally, when the sun struck the tops of the trees, some gold and brown appeared - a dramatic hint of the return of the full palette some months from now when the snows have melted and spring returns.

St. Lucia

On Thursday we returned from an amazing week in St. Lucia. We were there to celebrate the 80th birthday of Amy's mother Joyce. Joyce has a great talent for joy and delight. She reminded us all periodically (and appropriately) how lucky we were to be there and be together.

Amy and her sister Karen had prepared a number of personalized gifts, including beach tote bags customized for each of us.

We walked the beach, looking at shells and coral and the sea. We swam in the hotel swimming pool, and climbed hills for the views.

St. Lucia's big industry is tourism, but there is still a lot of fishing going on, which resulted in some great meals.

Our hotel was on Reduit Beach, the longest beach on the island (about 1/2 mile long). The surf was pretty wild at times, but the Caribbean water temperature was delightful and we swam every day in the sea.

Sarah spotted this humming bird.

It was, for all of us, a wonderful respite from cold and blizzards, and from the pressures of school and work and normal everyday life. Many virgin piña coladas were drunk; many hands of dominos were played; we slept deeply every night.

We certainly wouldn't complain about our lives at home; 24 hours after swimming in the Caribbean, Amy and I were cross-country skiing in the woods behind our house. But the feel of the buoyant embrace of warm salt water lingers ...