Monday, January 23, 2012


The holiday tree, balsam, held its needles for three weeks in a cold room of the house (in the kitchen library where we keep it unheated through winter). The next two weeks we set the tree, with lights, out in the backyard, going strong. When the needles finally fall off the tough one, we'll then cut the tree up and burn it for warmth. For now it's a pretty warm light through the night.

photo © bob arnold


Anonymous said...

Providing all kinds of warmth. When I see the christmas trees thrown out it gives me that road kill shiver. Oft times though, the crows, cleansers that they are, make it all worthwhile. Which reminds me to tell you that there's a murder (there goes another shiver) of crows, thousands, down here along the Hartford-West Hartford line. Their roost is the University of Hartford, and I get to see them in my travels as they also make their apprx 35-mile trips and then back to the university at sunset. While on a long walk, Sunday, in the snow and the sun, they were making their way back to their roost, when I did a doubletake – one was trailing a streamer-type object from its leg or foot the way those biplanes used to stream words across the sky, probably a plastic shopping bag. What a sight. Stay well, Bob, Susan.

Bob Arnold / Longhouse said...

Hello Donna,

Just read your private letter to us, many thanks, and here is the Birdhouse comment letter — just as private/public as far as I'm concerned. We ain't Republicans: there's nothing to hide!

A crow with a plastic bag trailing on its passage? I mean, they are sly enough to go shopping and bring home more than they need, but that's a first time I've heard of this.

Speaking of what turns up: a day ago on the Birdhouse I showed all my chalk drawn figures and friends along the path. Within that portfolio have a closer look at the bird nest I show. In that bird nest, falling out of it in fact, is the remnants of a balloon. The bird had stitched the string that came with the balloon into its nest weaving. That's the very balloon, I'm pretty sure, that I showed as a film last summer that had come down for a day into our garden flowers. It bounced and played in the flower tops for most of the day and then rose and took off again to who knows where. Well, like your crow, a phoebe or robin found the balloon and brought it home. I did a double take before I took the photograph.

caw~caw, Bob