Dames Judi Dench (left) and Maggie Smith (center).

Sometimes it gets cold. Really, really, cold. Snow creeps under the front door and drifts across the hallway. It doesn’t melt. Matt’s laser thermometer measures the kitchen floor, it’s 39 degrees. I feel the cold through thick woolen socks. The wall behind the kitchen sink is not insulated. When I wash dishes, it feels like ghost children are grabbing my ankles.

Winter can be a tough time. It is hard to fight melancholy when everything is bitter cold and grey. Cozy evenings drinking hot chocolate and liquor by the fire help. And so does the bird feeder. The winter birds bring fleeting flights of color, cheerful as Christmas lights. Every morning, I have my coffee with bluebirds, nuthatches, and cardinals.

The bluebirds are my favorites. They seem like staunch New England ladies, a bit stout, and they don’t really flit about. Nothing prevents them from going about their business, the birds simply fluff up their feathers, set their beaks, and stare down the blizzard.