Okay, enough already. Bring on the warmth.

Word of the Day (And boy, does it fit!):
gelid \JEL-id\, adjective:
Extremely cold; icy.

I am getting quite attached to my little orangy house finch. But there is a direct correlation of redness and health and fitness in house finches and other brightly colored birds, so maybe he won't be around for long. Sometimes I wish I were ignorant of certain things, and could just enjoy nature blissfully unaware.

I miss my cats. I spend time with them in the evening, as I sit here and blog, but I miss them curling up with me in bed, and watching them tear through the house on their little kitty errands.

Sigh...at least ice is pretty. I tried all day to capture what I was seeing in the ice, but I failed. Each tiny knob, each icicle was throwing rainbows.
Anywhere I went today, it was like driving inside an ice castle. Or a glass house.

Makes me think of that song..
"Ow, she's a brick....HOUSE..."

Queen Anne's Lace, sleeping under an inch of frozen rain.

I didn't realize how funny this picture was until I uploaded it. I was photographing the tree sparrows at Mom's feeders, and when I saw this picture up close, I realized the song sparrow behind the tree sparrow looks like he is skating...or about to fall.
"WHOOOAAAA!"

I love to watch Nellie run. And I cringe the whole time. She just isn't young anymore, and every day, I am reminded how stiff her back and tail are. I don't ask her to "sit" anymore when I give out treats, because most of the time, she slowly lowers herself onto one of her hips, instead of sitting on her bottom.

The bluebird box had fallen down, and when I picked it up, a big slab of sod was stuck to it. Soon, Mister and Missus will be back, and by God, they will have babies this year!
All of the house sparrows and starlings will fall victim to my trap and RAPTOR's new CO2 chamber.
*evil cackle*

This fancy nest box has reared three successful broods of chickadees. These are last year's survivors.

Everywhere you look...ice.

Even the trunks of all the trees have a skin of ice.

Watching the sunset through the ice was inspiring. The ice pulled in every drop of gold light and I wish I could paint.

Boomer's time is running out. We are going to set a date, and if he hasn't been adopted by that time, he will be going to a local Boston rescue. Damn it.
I have two very big guns firing for me (Julie and Jane) but no one has stepped forward to adopt him. The longer he is here, the more painful it becomes.
In the above picture, he is stalking the cats through the basement door.
BIG sigh.

To end on a good note...
A bit of wisdom from the oh-so-intelligent and wise Susan:


"People in glass houses...

...probably go through a lot of Windex."