A movement caught her eye, and as she turned to follow it she saw the cardinal take its perch on the snow-covered branch of a maple. It sat, a single spot of vivid red, and sang. Mac crouched, zoomed in rather than risk going closer and losing the shot. Was it the same bird who’d smacked into her kitchen window? she wondered. If so, he certainly seemed undamaged and unruffled as he sat like a single flame on the white-laced branch. She caught the moment then, taking three shots in rapid succession, slight changes in angles that coated her jeans with snow as she inched left. Then the bird took wing, swooped over the frozen sea, through the bright light, and was gone. Emmaline, beautiful Emmaline in her old navy coat, white cap and scarf trudged toward her through the snow.
“I wondered how long I’d have to stand there until you finished or the damn bird took off. It’s cold out here.”
Vision in White
_____________________
As temperatures dip, look no further than your backyard
to see how full of life this blustery season truly is.
_____________________
He opened it carefully, peeling up the tape and flapped ends. And took out the photograph matted in a simple black frame. Against the black and white of snow and winter trees, the cardinal sat like a living flame.
“It’s wonderful.”
“It’s nice.” She studied it with him. “One of those lucky breaks. I took it early yesterday morning. It’s no bellycrested whopado, but it’s our bird, after all.”
Vision in White