if you know how to get on with’ em…

if you know how to get on with' em...

{Alright, I suppose that’s the other kind of robin. It’s also a bit odd drawing them like this, all drab greys without their flashy pink and red bellies on display. But one way or another, this is the week when the robins come — always in the ice and snow, when winter is just gearing up for its big finale and spring seems ever so far away. They feed on the hawthorns and the crab-apples from seasons past, and the waxwings won’t be far behind them now. I walked out my door and flushed two of the plump little red-breasts right by the window, with more scattering as I made my way down the walk and to the trees. As I watched the feeding flock, others would land right by me and wheel instantly away as they noticed my presence, their wings beating in my face. It’s quite a spectacle in its small way, and as the 100th anniversary of the passenger pigeon’s extinction approaches I can only imagine the awe of thousands upon thousands flocking over untold acres.

This week has brought some less pleasant events in with the weather — dozens of co-workers ill, followed immediately by a sudden blizzard that caused accidents and delays around town. Schools and businesses closed early, buses struggled to keep up with the shivering masses as their own drivers battled the latest local bug, and vehicles piled up in their attempts to crest what may well be the city’s only significant hill. Fortunately, all is mending by now, and the robins tell me the week that follows will be a good one.}

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