Night of the snow

For the second time since December, Shetland feels Arctic maritime. Snow falls here and there, dusting every corner of the islands. Earlier on today, we woke to a pale sun that dazzled our hearts and watched starlings, sparrows and blackbirds feasting on leftovers & fat scattered in the garden. A little later on, Mr Robin dared to show up. As the day went on, light from our star vanished and mini-blizzards began to override gold in the sky. The air feels polar. It was a day for hats & gloves, sheepskin boots and thermals! Our avian friends have to make do with their natural adaptations - layers of duvet, down feathers tightly tucked under their plumage, and fat accumulated each day for survival. Like thousands of humans, we feed in such lean & harsh times. each morning sounds time to advertise one's still alive. Birds display it with sounds (or alarm calls), some of us through the alarm clock or, Twitter, which feels very apt for the occasion. 

It's long past roosting time. As we approach the longest night, the Winter Solstice, three days till the end of the term. I shall begin to make birdcakes for our feathery friends, which I will hang off our young trees. I don't believe our village shop has stocked apples. I shall look again when roads are free of ice.