Last night’s serenity has become tonight’s cacophony. Dry tree limbs clattering like old bones and young, lissom branches bending and whistling and singing in chorus. Occasionally, one limb will become the bow and the other limb becomes the fiddle string.
The air is alive and warm, the sky is grey and indifferent. The mighty Southwind is doing its job, bringing just a hint of a promise of a harbinger – and nothing more. I best keep this memory on my tongue as the next norther sweeps through in a couple of days.
There was some sly coyote courtship happening tonight. One good clear-throated howl and then a lot of little chuck-chucks and woofy woofs. Love is a universal language, don’t ya know?
February is on it’s way, real winter is just around the corner, we won’t see the 40s for a while, looks like a few days not even 20s. Bring it on, buddy, bring it on.