Hitchcock Meets Zhivago

We woke up this morning to a couple of inches of snow with more coming down--big fluffy flakes driven by a north wind. Because of the snow Thomas canceled his scheduled trip to Kansas City for a mission meeting. So while we waited for our coffee to drip through the filter he and I sat together watching all the little birds flutter around our feeders, sharing the perches, devouring the black oiled sunflower seeds. Very peaceful and serene.

As we watched, a flock of blackbirds arrived. First they lit in the edge of the woods, gathering in the tops of the bare snow-covered trees, dozens of them with a few red-wings thrown in for accent color. Then they flew into the area of the feeders, covering the bushes, the crooks, sort of scuffeling for the perches. The spindly branches of the Rose of Sharon bent under their weight. In deference to their size and multitude all the little birds moved out of their way. For awhile the blackbirds dominated the scene. My spontaneous caption: Hitchcock Movie Meets Dr. Zhivago! We chuckled together, then I got up to get our first cup of coffee.