This is Winter in Kentucky

Cold weather came to us with the full moon.

Overnight the temperatures of a mild December and balmy, sunny January nose-dived to something more resembling winter.

Skies have been grey and broody; the thermometer has hovered around the freezing mark at 32F.

On Friday a few snowflakes drifted about, leaving swaths of white which quickly melted when the sun appeared Saturday morning.

Birds who have found their own food during the earlier weeks have crowded the feeders in appreciation of free seeds.

J. was hunting down a desirable tractor on Tuesday and invited me to ride along.

It was cold, but the sun was out for much of the day.

I was tired from many sleepless nights, but took along a book.

I watched the scenery, read a bit, drowsed, lulled by the steady throb of Snort'n Nort'n's diesel engine.

Arriving home early in the evening I sat in my rocking chair by the fireplace,  book propped open and Eggnog cat in my lap.

A bit after 8, I toddled off to bed and slept the clock around!

I hadn't been in the charity shop at the edge of town in months.

I stopped there Thursday while on errands.

I was taken with these three bowls--not because I have need of dishes, but because the flower patterns are brightly colorful.  I can imagine using these small bowls to serve berries fresh from the garden.

Wouldn't a slice of melon or a salad serve up prettily in this?

25 cents each!

Saturday's sunset was lovely, a welcome change from a run of days when the sky has sulked.

Birds aren't especially cooperative subjects for photos.

I stand at the sliding door and use the zoom lens.

At least one bird in the frame seems to bounce or flutter just as I take the picture.

The goldfinches are beginning to show hints of their summer coloring, a yellow tinge lightening their olive drab of winter.  They are in fierce competition with the tufted titmice and the chickadees for the seeds.

Sparrows and juncos are happy to join the cardinals picking up spilled seed from the ground.

A solitary goldfinch samples this mixture.

The wind was so fierce Friday night that this feeder landed on the ground under the tree.

We have grumbled about the cold.  We laugh at ourselves for minding temperatures that are so much warmer than our winters in Vermont or Wyoming.

Then we sagely tell each other that this is a biting sort of cold--the kind that bites to the bone!

We have remembered that we own long-johns and thermal undies, and they have been rooted out of bottom drawers and gratefully worn.

I dug my 'fur'-lined boots from the depths of the closet yesterday and found a fuzzy muffler to wear on my trek to the edge of the woods for kindling twigs.

We have fueled ourselves with homemade soup, muffins, many cups of steaming tea.

The forecast is for the cold to continue through this week, but I think we've gotten our routine down--

wool socks and a few extra chunks of wood for the fires, an extra quilt at the foot of the bed.