Tracks

When the snow was new and coated in ice, the creatures of the forest seemed frozen somewhere other than at our place. No tracks appeared for a couple of days; the birds and squirrels being too light weight to make a dent, simply skated across the snow.

With the addition of several inches of powder last night, it is as though an invitation to party was issued. Around the bird feeders, stomach-dragging birds left drunken tracks hither and yon, back and forth, around and about. In the broader open areas and habitual crossing trails, deer have gathered and traversed and circled but we haven't seen even one of the creatures as they passed by. Mixed in is a trail of rabbit-looking tracks though we've never seen hide nor tail of a bunny here. Maybe there is a padded footprint of a bobcat out there. We saw those tracks once. We are not curious enough to go out in search of them. It is too cold and leaving our human foot trails in the snow seems too intrusive in this tableaux.

How I spent this cold, snowy day

Unwilling to walk outside on ice-covered snow, I used a photo taken yesterday by Bill and painted a watercolor of our house while watching the sun paint shadows on the snow outside my studio window.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, my German friend Silke took photos of our snow-covered little village of Queidersbach and the house I used to live in there. She posted them on Facebook along with a video of her dog playing in the snow and her voice cheering him on. 

All that combined to bring tears for the first time since I moved. I had been missing Germany all this month so Silke's thoughtful gesture was all I needed to push me over the edge.  She will visit me next year, bringing her lovely daughter, Tasha with her. Of all the memories I have of Germany, they are among the best. She was always there when I needed her.

Winter scene

The misinformed calendar says winter starts Dec. 21.

About five inches of snow blankets the forest around us. Our driveway is marred only by Bill's foot prints leading to and from the mailbox at the end of a long stretch. Ice covers the snow in a crunchy layer.  "When you go to the mailbox today...," I said. "What? I thought getting the mail was your special walk-in-the-woods thing?" "Yes," I said. "Three quarters of the time. This is your quarter. I don't do slippery."  He headed downstairs to his workshop, not ready to do slippery himself.

The ice is not a bad thing for the birds.  They make slippery landings around the feeders and don't sink in, leaving no trails. Strangely, winter-coated gold finches have come back to the nyjer feeder which I almost put away in their absence. They litter the snow with seeds for the ground-feeding juncos. A downy woodpecker hangs from the suet block alongside two fat, brown wrens who never came in nice weather. One junco is missing tail feathers, making his little behind pointed and short. Yesterday I tossed seed onto the snow and today only husks remain after the flock of juncos had their fill. The tall conical evergreen has become shelter for birds during the day. At night, when we turn on the Christmas lights around it, I wonder if the birds are mad at us for waking them or grateful for a few degrees of warmth generated by the decoration.

Three squirrels run wildly around the trees and across the frozen snow like children on the first day of vacation. They show no interest in raiding the bird feeders or the easy buffet on the snow. They crash into each other in their frenzy, get upright and charge up a tall, swaying tree. Winter is a playground for the wild things today. The watching humans hunker down inside and think of things to do to pass the time.

Someone in China read my blog?

This morning I decided to investigate all the little tab thingeys on the management side of my blog. Normally, the only one I really look at is the stat tab.  After not posting very frequently in my previous life, I now post with semi-regularity and finally got over the fear of really telling anyone I had posted! Duh, you want to know someone is reading it, it pays to let someone know it exists! Slowly but surely, the read count has gone up, two comments have been made (thanks, June!) and today a new follower showed up (bless you, Chas, I love you).  In my excitement over seeing the new follower, I decided to spend some early morning time exploring all the other tabs to which the owner, not the readers, of the blog have access.

China? Someone read my blog in China??  Three times. Three times one person or one time three people is unclear, but one thing for sure, I don't know anyone in China, but do own a bunch of china.  Know someone who went to China--lovely Chinese couple here who are coming to dinner soon. Maybe they showed it to relatives while they were visiting there.

How about Russia? Five reads took place in Russia. Nope, don't know anyone who lives there and only one person who visited there a long time ago. Don't have any Russian china and don't want to go there myself after seeing photos on email this morning showing an incomprehensible amount of snow burying cars three times over. Can you say Siberia?

Poland I have been to and found a bit depressing. They are probably lovely people, but their border crossing was a real trial the four times I did it. Poland represents four of my 341 hits thus far. I do own some Polish china, only we call it pottery, a more fitting name for a folksy-looking polka dot pattern and plates heavy enough to be used for weight lifting.

Two hits apiece are listed for Spain, France and the Netherlands. Been there, done that. Worked my butt off in Rota, Spain, to open a new commissary; have three wonderful friends in France not to mention great shopping memories (no china, French pottery, shoes and clothing); been to the Netherlands many times to Schinnen for work and visits with friends.  So I do know people in all those places.

Three reads took place in the United Kingdom.  No big surprize there. Been there too many times to count and survived the left-handed driving so I'm here to tell about it. Know a bunch of people who go there or live there, even if on a rather transient basis.

Germany and the U.S. harbor my biggest fans, but Germany runs a very poor second with only 6 hits.  Until just a few months ago I lived there--for 17 years--so they should be getting on board a bit better, don't you think? The U.S. wins the count with 308 reads. In all fairness, my willingness to finally post my posts on Facebook is the number one reason my posts are being read and the number two is the fact that another blogger, http://www.adhominem.weebly.com/ graciously posted my blog address, did an awesome job of covering a month-long art project I and others from this area were involved in and, currently, is featuring me and my art done outside of that project.  Easily the biggest coverage my art has ever received. Thank you, Michael. Go look at it so Michael can see his visit count go up, too. It will make him feel good. If you go there after it comes down and is replaced by another artist, check out the archives for my name and also for FloCoiMo. You'll understand what that means after you get there.

Last, but not least, I have been read in Tajikistan. Did you know that the "stan" part of that word means land? Tajikis land.  Not sure who or what the Tajikis are, but I know my blog was being read there for a time by a Brit named Wally, who lives in Germany and is, at this very moment recovering from his latest visit to the Tajikis and packing his bags for Ireland where he will spend the holidays taking spectacular photographs of spectacular scenery and brightening my email with them. He will frequent the pubs and party with crazy people he met and loved earlier this year and regale me with stories of it as he goes. I hope he gets the really nice Christmas present he wants while he is there...but then, isn't just being there a nice Christmas present?

Merry Christmas to all my readers, whoever and wherever you are. Maybe I should be saying Happy Holidays!

Even the deer don't want to get up

It was 14 degrees outside at 7 this morning. The sun was up, I was up, the deer were not. Curled on the ground in underbrush about 30 feet from the kitchen window were four deer, heads up, ears twitching. Nearby, a few hungry juncos hopped around under the bird feeders. Lucky for them, birds using the feeder are sloppy and routinely throw seeds to the ground. Juncos seem to be ground junkies.

Slowly, one doe gets up and spends an amazing amount of time standing on three legs while slowly chewing on something inside the raised leg.  I have an inane thought--is it possible for a deer to nurse on itself? Can I find the answer to that question on Google? Finally, she drops her fourth leg and meanders around munching on something on the forest floor. The recling deer stare away from all this activity, chewing their cuds. Irritated at the inactivity, the doe goes over to the smallest recliner and taps it on the back with a foreleg. Interesting. I'd never seen this before. The small deer, probably her fawn, wobbles up, stretches, takes a few steps, and, like all teenagers, goes back to bed. A few minutes pass before mom gives up and returns to bed herself.

Twenty minutes later, after some serious procrastination on my part, I leave the house to go swimming.  The deer have all stood up and begun their trek through the forest toward doing whatever it is deer do all day. They were wearing their winter coats of taupe, matching the cold bark of the trees, making them disappear more easily into the scene. The lead doe stops to watch my car go by, totally adjusted to the presence of human life in her turf.

Before discovering this group outside the kitchen, I'd had the good fortune to watch two other deer very clearly through my office window as they strolled the driveway eating acorns from the gravel. Not often I get a view good enough for videotaping. Shot through the window screen, it is a bit fuzzy.

The art project with a funny name is over

Anne's Feet, one of the daily artworks I did
for FloCoiMo. It now acts as Anne Armistead's
profile photo on Facebook.

FloCoiMo is over. I miss it.

On the last day of November, the FloCoiMo'ers ended the month-long project which had kept so many of us connected and inspired. We met new people on line and then in person. We collaborated and inspired each other spontaneously and unexpectedly. We learned things about ourselves and each other. Facebook became a much more interesting place to go each day in search of words written by Mara or Sarah, sketches done by Patricia, photos by Coriander and Michele, blog entries by Carly, falcon videos by Lee. In search of who "Liked" our works, who took the time to comment. As the month marched to the feast of Thanksgiving, some of us, me included, felt despair over the lack of "Likes" and comments. Did they not like? Did they have nothing good to say?  No, Carly assured me at the Jacksonville Winterfest.  "Just because we didn't click those buttons and make comments doesn't mean we didn't see them and like them." Carly makes beautiful jewelry and Christmas is rushing upon her as she tries to meet her orders in spite of a broken tool.  I shouldn't give her a hard time, she owes me pieces promised. Now that FloCoiMo is over, we all have more time for other things. But I still miss it.

The first snow of the season

As the weather man promised, we received about four inches of snow yesterday afternoon and into the night. With the back spotlight on, I could lie in bed and watch the flakes fall against a background of naked trees and night sky. High above the ground, the bedroom offers a somewhat treehouse view. This morning, the sun delivers the classic crisp, snowy Christmas card sort of tableaux, albeit a very windy one at the moment.

Outside our kitchen window we have a bird feeder which, in the warm months, attracts a nice assortment of avian visitors. Juncos, chickadees, gold finches, nuthatches, are regular diners. An occasional woodpecker, tufted titmouse or phoebe stops by. Now that it is 25 degrees and covered in snow, only the juncos are foraging on the ground, leaping on the feeder roof and finally making it into the protection of the feeder.  I will venture out in a while to spread more seed on the ground where they seem to dine the most and figure out where to hang a suet block to help them keep warm. Evidence on our deck indicates at least one bird spent the night under the cover over our deck furniture. Bird tracks in the snow mark their entry and exit.

Seeing these dusty gray birds this morning reminded me of an attack of envy I felt last weekend.  We did two stops on the 16Hands pottery tour in Floyd County. At the lovely home and studio of Silvie Granitelli, several feeders hung just outside the studio.  Suddenly they were covered in gold finches, tufted titmouse (titmice?) and one glorious blue bird no more than four feet away from me as I looked through the window.  I can't recall ever seeing a blue bird before and it just made my day.  Then I was envious. Why should these beautiful bluebirds be in Floyd but not in my part of Blacksburg?  Why are there still gold finches here when they have abandoned my feeders already.  What do I have to do to lure them to my forest? Some feeders are more blessed than others, it appears.