I’m at the dining-room table, mug in hand, watching a rare Southern snow glide past the window. From this warm perch I’m reminded—again—how quietly fortunate my life is.
The Deck Show
Just beyond the glass a gray squirrel is determined to commandeer the bird feeder. He stretches from the deck rail like a living bungee cord—back paws clinging to wood, front paws latched to the plastic rim. For a moment he hangs, belly swaying, stuffing seeds into his cheeks.
Then gravity wins. He scrambles, slips, drops five feet to the frozen ground, scampers up the post, and tries again. Hang, slip, fall, repeat.
The cardinals and chickadees cheer each tumble. Their reward is a few seconds of feeder peace before the furry pirate re-boards.
The Ice Quilt
Beyond the deck, the pond has stitched itself into a single sheet. Three days ago ice clung only to the shoreline—slender tentacles reaching from cattails. Floes formed, drifted together, locked arms. Now the whole surface is cloudy white, thickening by the hour.
The View from Indoors
I’m not out there shivering in a bivouac, as I was on too many field exercises.
I’m not chipping spray off a North-Atlantic deck.
I’m not huddled under an overpass, wondering where the next meal or shower will come from.
I am inside, fed, warm, and loved.
Inventory of Blessings
- A snug house with picture-book windows.
- Robin, who somehow loves me back and keeps the lights on.
- Three grown sons who became good men (credit their mother).
- One terrific daughter-in-law and two grandkids who think “Papa” is a superhero.
- Another son and his long-time partner collecting stamps in their passports.
Snowflakes drift; the fire pops. The squirrel plots his next heist.
Yes, I am blessed.
I hope, in your own way, you feel the same. And if not yet, may that blessing find you soon.
Choose Joy.
