Artwork and words by Nona Estrin
Recently the woods were full of mossy surprises, and the old Schoolhouse spring was bursting with green watercress, but today winter has returned. Icy pellets click on the windows. I walk out to the mailbox under a dense fir-stand full of birds—juncos, tree sparrows, cardinals, chickadees, blue jays, and a few nuthatches shelter in thick branches where they rest and feed. I would never know they are there but for the twitters and song fragments that make their way down to where I stand, looking up.
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