I am preoccupied with novel writing, so my thoughts are uncollected this morning.

My friend, Julie, she of Christmas tree adventure fame, called me this morning to cancel our belated joint birthday celebration for tonight. She hasn’t been feeling well, but she always cheers me. Her young grandson has signed up for school band and decided to take up the trumpet. When asked why he chose that particular instrument he explained that it was because it only had three buttons.

She also sent me this gallows edition of the cheerful birdseed snowman her daughter had given her. It’s become so morbid she’s decided it will have to be cut down, no matter how delicious the birds find it.

I don’t generally feed birds with or without moribund snowmen, mostly because the turkeys kept sitting on the birdfeeders and breaking them. But the deer have been visiting regularly in hope of finding the seeds I put out during last month’s extreme cold. I feel a bit guilty, but I try to hold firm on my only in extreme conditions policy. My late father always said deer were “vectors for disease”, which is completely true, but they are so innocently beautiful, it’s difficult to remember. Auggie and Eli help keep me in mind of ticks, however. Two dogs of my acquaintance have been diagnosed with Lyme disease recently, and we don’t need that.

Turkeys—despite their unconstructive birdfeeder habits—do make themselves useful in their consumption of ticks. I also encourage possums—but only morally, as I am unaware of any particular method of enticing them, aside from seeds, which seem likely to deter tick consumption. Are there possum houses?

The weekend approaches, and with our Friday night newly free, I suppose we will fall upon the tried and true drinks by the fire and dogs on the feet. If we feel ambitious and the wind doesn’t come up, we will venture outside with our cognac snifters and have a bonfire.

The dogs will love that.

I leave you with some gratuitous dog footprints: the peculiar paw pattern of a standard dachshund. No, not Frank, but Oscar, the wire-haired dachshund. My family are dachshund people on all sides.