Sunday, December Twenty-third

Damp, overcast, just shy of warm start to my morning coffee muses.

About midnight last evening, the air was filling with fog. This morning it’s just damp out.

Yesterday’s warmth and blue skies had me sitting out on the front porch with my Kindle for much of the afternoon. I was hearing cedar waxwings for much of the afternoon. A couple of times I even spotted the flock flying over.

Sitting here this morning,  it’s blue jays and crows making most of the noise. But, off in the background noise, I can just make out the whistling call of the waxwings.

It’s amazing how the different trees this season have shed their leaves to a whole different schedule. Usually they are more in line with each other … not this year.

It’s another murder of crows raising a ruckus along the tree line.

As I was watching,  another of the few leaves hanging on my red oak just let go and fluttered to the ground. There can’t be more than a couple of dozen leaves left on the tree. Yesterday the sun was catching a single leaf just right so as to make it and only it glow burnt orange. The color was stunning.

Time to move on… Merry Christmas to all.

2 thoughts on “Sunday, December Twenty-third

  1. So here it, is — Christmas eve. The clouds they promised are drifting in, and the breeze is cool, so we’ll see. I hope your celebrations are joyous — looking forward to sharing the new year with you.

    1. Merry Christmas Linda. Someone nearby has a burn pile burning so it’s smoky outside with the cool breeze.

      I look forward to another year of virtual sharing with you. Your recounting of your explorations keep me amazed at the way you weave a story.

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