December 27th. Winter. Cold and dry. Or damp and foggy. But still, winter.
Just completed a chilly, face numbing walk through the neighborhood. And what did I see? And hear? Two silly, out of season robins!
Now, seriously. We did not have a white Christmas. Not even a foggy Christmas. Not perfectly clear, but not wintry weather either. Mild would be a good word. For the northwest, that is not good. We definitely need piles of snow and ice, wind and rain. Especially in the mountains. Summer irrigation depends on it.
But robins? They seemed wonderfully ignorant of the season, and blissfully happy to be bouncing from branch to branch.
I hope this does not forecast a clear, dry winter season for us. I dread to think of the hot weather water woes to follow if that is the case.
Or maybe, just maybe, the robins are a bit touched in the head. Blown off course on their fall departure route. Let's hope so.
Come on robins, head to your winter roosting spots. Come on snow, we need mountains of the pretty white stuff. It's winter! Snow, baby, snow.