They’ve cleaned me out of everything they could reach. The deep snow is crisscrossed with tracks leading from one leafless bush to another, and it’s only winter’s frosty rug that protects the perennials they overlooked in the fall. I’ve never developed a successful oversight plan, one that would reduce plant damage or limit black-legged ticks. […]
Thankfully, the eagle was a perfect excuse to cut my walk short. By midmorning the temperature had risen to only 7 degrees, and though it was the day before the big storm, there was still several inches of snow at the H. E. Preston Sanctuary from the last one. No path to follow. The Little
Up at three AM on January 3, one of my bad nights, with the Super Wolf Moon glowing so brightly through the shades that I just have to look. The snow is that neon blue color, decorated with gold glitter. Black tree trunk shadows crisscross the yard; it’s easy to see the sinuous dark line
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