A Solitary Walker: Stone by stone

A few flakes of snow fell yesterday, drifting slowly like downy feathers from a goose that had been shot. Looking up, I saw no goose and realized that the feathers were snowflakes and winter was coming. I imagined black bears in the beech forest covering themselves with leaves and closing their little eyes and I thought it safe to put out birdseed, and so I did. Three birdfeeders hung from the porch, bringing in, within minutes, dozens of bluejays, finches, chickadees, tufted titmice, woodpeckers and nuthatches. Had they been watching my daily moves, asking, “When will the old one put out our food?” Now, at once, they took turns dashing in and grabbing. Winter, so dull of color and quiet of song, joyfully sends out the chickadee acrobats to keep me laughing. Summer is awash with songs from sunup to dark and smells of rain falling on flowers.

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