this past week, with a quick dump of heart-attack snow, and the arrival of some favorite winter neighbors.
I love to watch the Short-Eared owls, often arriving as a pair, arcing crazily around the fields. Staying low and close to the ground, they'll wheel acrobatically and drop on something small and unseen in the distance.
Darby prefers the Harrier hawks, with their slow, gracefully rocking flight, also low and quiet above the winter turned field. 
The cold is sudden, and not altogether welcome, but I've already found a painting in the harsh arrival. Something small, but atmospheric, should be done in a couple more days.
