Hard Times

Tough times for all this week, a late winter storm dropped 8 inches of snow on us Monday.  Finally dug out and returning to normal.  It’s hard on the wildlife both big….
HT8cs
Got my fish now bugger off!
Bloody youngsters, no respect at all.HT6 cs

And small
HT3cs
Quite a mixture including a woody, two cardinals and a junko.
HT 4cs

Also, a line up at the thistle bar hidden in the mountain Laurel.
HT 1cs

Goldfinches, junkos and  the ubiquitous sparrows, they all  have to eat.

So do I, fat Tuesday today, file gumbo and red beans with rice, I had my pancakes for breakfast. 

Roll on Spring.

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  1. Pseu
    March 4, 2014 at 10:28 pm

    Some excellent shots here.
    Yes, roll on Spring!

  2. Soutie
    March 5, 2014 at 5:52 am

    I wore long pants and shoes yesterday, the seasons are a turnin 😉

  3. March 5, 2014 at 7:46 am

    LW, what is the tree in the final pic, please?

  4. sheona
    March 5, 2014 at 9:42 am

    Great photos, LW. Thank you.

  5. March 5, 2014 at 2:21 pm

    Hello Pseu: Long time coming here, 12F (-10C) this morning but sunny for a change.

  6. March 5, 2014 at 2:21 pm

    Hello Soutie: Sorry to hear that, you have my sympathy.

  7. March 5, 2014 at 2:23 pm

    Hello Janus: It’s Mountain Laurel (Kalmia Mrs. O. called it). Here’s a few pictures from back in the Summer.

    https://charioteers.org/2012/05/17/growing-short/

  8. March 5, 2014 at 2:24 pm

    Hello Sheona: A bit blurred, I took them through the window, way too cold to go outside.

  9. christinaosborne
    March 5, 2014 at 5:11 pm

    LW it looks as if you are feeding as many of the local denizens as we are!

    Note to Janus. Kalmia is an acid loving shrub, most cultivars are pink flowered. Must have full sunlight to do well and be sheltered. Grows much bigger in LW’s climate but would do 4-5 feet in Denmark.
    Very slow growing though. Can be tricky.

    It has now decided to rain. …and rain…..and rain. Dogs plus us are bored to death!

  10. March 5, 2014 at 5:39 pm

    Morning Mrs. O.

    The waters are out in Lincolnshire. An arch of the bridge in the park has been sapped and sopped away. The adjacent low-lying ground for half a mile in breadth is a stagnant river with melancholy trees for islands in it and a surface punctured all over, all day long, with falling rain. My Lady Dedlock’s place has been extremely dreary. The weather for many a day and night has been so wet that the trees seem wet through, and the soft loppings and prunings of the woodman’s axe can make no crash or crackle as they fall. The deer, looking soaked, leave quagmires where they pass. The shot of a rifle loses its sharpness in the moist air, and its smoke moves in a tardy little cloud towards the green rise, coppice-topped, that makes a background for the falling rain. The view from my Lady Dedlock’s own windows is alternately a lead-coloured view and a view in Indian ink. ….

    My Lady Dedlock says she has been “bored to death.”

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