I was in my apartment yesterday looking out the side window and saw some birds sitting in the bushes. There were some juncos, which are common this time of year. They spend their spring and summer seasons up on the hilltop wilderness preserve just west of here, then come down into the ‘burbs for the winter. But there were also a couple of visitors — some kind of capped sparrow along with a tufted titmouse. Not exactly very exotic sightings for experienced birdwatchers (which I’m not), but somewhat unusual for a crowded human habitat. It was nice to see them; it brightened up an otherwise usual winter’s day.

Ah, winter. During the short daytime, it’s either dark overcast or bright sun not far over the horizon, casting long shadows. I’m not sure which is more depressing. Thank goodness it doesn’t last forever. I don’t know what I’d do in northern Maine or upper Canada, where it actually does last forever (except for a brief warm season plagued by hoards of black flies)!

Yea, Mother Nature is often overrated, but birds are one of her consolations. When I was growing up, we had a lot of factories in my town, and only the toughest of birds could stand it — pigeons, starlings, sparrows and bluejays. In the 1980s, the factories started shutting down, and we finally saw some other kinds of birds, such as cardinals, northern mockingbirds, catbirds, and house finches. You knew that the pollution was finally abating, but it was too bad about the human effects; a lot of people from the cities lost their union jobs and probably never found anything equivalent. A lot more guys are in jail these days.

I don’t have a good theme tonight, just a couple of scattered observations from a mid-January day. Sometimes life has no grand themes, just a matter of survival. Survival and faith. Faith that sooner or later, the gray will give way to something nicer. But for now . . . . .