Winter Solstice

Shriveled red peppers cling to their plants, still standing in frozen ground. The starkest contrast of life and death, warmth and cold. We didn't get up any of the plants this year, just let them fade and take whatever form came most naturally to them. The peppers hang on the longest. Ironically, that food which rarely stands alone in a meal remains alone in our garden. All signs of life removed and still it sprouts proudly from the ground.

Though the days will soon be getting longer-first comes the cold. The old adage "going to bed with the chickens" plays itself out each night, here. Our girls flee to the warmth of the roost, nestled together. Beaks tucked under wing until the sunshine of the morning warms their coop.

I let the squirrel eat for a while -this time of year he's earned the luxury of leaving his home in the woods crossing the road and sneaking over our cattle gate for a scant bite of scratch feed. When I open the door, releasing Ike & Dolly he'll scurry home-heart racing from the chase but with hunger satisfied.

Each morning the cast of characters expands at the single feeder. Female cardinals are Drew's favorite-the slight hints of red in her mostly grey ensemble (much like those peppers in the garden). The more frequent-the loyalists I call them- appeal more to me: chickadee, tufted titmouse, and finches of all hues. They gather, fill their bellies, and fly off to the barren apple tree until time for lunch.

The life in our yard, this day, belongs to animals-not plants. But it's enough to sustain my heart until the thaw. Although next year a goat might be a nice addition.