A cold white day, only one other walker with his dog and the dog is wearing a saddle blanket. Near the grocery store, a moldering cat is lying frozen in the street. I find a mud and straw bird nest on the path next to a fly green empty bottle of Jagermeister. Soon, there is an empty bottle of "99 Bananas" and then two cobalt blue SKYY vodka bottles lying in the grass. There is some torn red and green Christmas wrapping lodged in the branches of a tree, green ribbon blowing in the wind.
The polar vortex blizzard has hit Philadelphia, Boston and New York. Monday night and morning, it will be 8 degrees here. I am dreaming of sitting on a balcony overlooking the golden marsh with the golden full moon above.
Driving home, I pass the closed Peach and Produce stand, empty now, but then, beside the road, I spot a regal wild turkey, no, a flock of wild turkeys, all large and elegant. I can see them among the trees quite clearly as the leaves and the undergrowth is gone now. There are many, perhaps 16 to 20. Surely, they have been living here but camouflaged in another season, invisible to me.
In the cold, last week, Zack, Shane and James were confined to the house and playing with light sabers, making treasure maps. Together they jumped up and down saying, "I love this day, I love this day. It is the bestest day!" And so it is.
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