This morning I watched through the kitchen window, a squirrel in a dead tree on the creek bank. No more than a tall skinny pole without any branches. When I first noticed the squirrel, it ran to the top, sat on it’s hind quarters, and appeared to be eating something.
It leaped to the tiny branch of another tree, hanging upside down and exposing the pretty reddish gold fur of it’s belly, until the swaying of the branch slowed. With a flip of it’s tail, it righted itself and kept moving. A second squirrel appeared near the first. I watched the agile creatures, slightly envious. Seemingly weightless, with great flourishes of their fluffy tails, dancing among the treetops.
From the warmth of the kitchen, I watched as a lady cardinal was chased away from the suet block, by a small lady woodpecker. She was chased away by a small male woodpecker, who was expelled by the large male cardinal. Then the little female woodpecker came back and refused to be intimidated by the cardinal, and ate some suet.
I had put the summer’s remaining sweet potatoes in the oven, making the kitchen warm and sweet smelling as I enjoyed the avian entertainment.
I plucked a leaf from the cinnamon basil plant on the window sill, crushed it in my palm, and held it to my face. Herbs are the best kind of aroma therapy. And flowers are the best kind of visual therapy.

There’s a creamy white amaryllis with 2 large blooms, and many more to come. A red one that should begin blooming in the next few days. The pretty red poinsettia has scarcely lost a leaf since I brought it home in November, and there are blooms on the red and white potted geraniums in the sun room.
Nearly everything I need to keep me happy until spring.
January 2023
Source: Story Hub written by Susie Ford Rohr