Slow Eddy

There was a snow squall. In a moment, the lake disappeared behind a wall of snow. We felt as insulated as the plants, happy, I am sure, with a blanket of snow to protect them from the cold.
The squirrels were absent but for one brave soul who was carefully clearing out the squirrel feeder from under its snow cover.

Brian thought that this little guy had been elected to go out and shovel.

“Who wants to go out and dig out the feeder?”

“Let’s send out slow Eddy!”, he heard them say. “He’ll go out and shovel the feeder for us!” The poor squirrel had to shake the snow off his face as he used his nose to smell for hidden peanuts. We have to feed the squirrels to keep them from worrying the bird feeders. It is a compromise with nature we are content to make.

This squirrel kept sniffing and looking for fresh, unfrozen seeds, raising his head to shake it off doggy-style, several times more. He sits in the small, brass dish - an upside down shell-shape. It was really a bird bath; a gift from my daughter one Mother’s Day. It serves as a great feeder. We give them peanuts, too. The squirrel is buried as the wind picks up and blows several centimeters of snow off of branches above.

We wonder if the new line of cloud across the horizon forecasts another blizzard. The squall passed in an hour. The snow broke out and warmed the house. It streamed in the windows. The house was cozy. The indoor plants basked in the warmth, the cat stretched in yoga-like fashion in the sunbeams. Life is good.