I saw antlers when I captured this view of the island this morning. Eyes were riveted to small tracks, but if you look at the shadows, you might just see solid deciduous horns, usually branched, of an animal of the deer family.
Hence, caribou :-).
I often compare the island to a mini Canada or a mini Svalbard every time it is anchored in ice.
A more wide angled
the Northern Isles,
allows the eye
to appreciate the majesty of our white world.
In such horrid climatic conditions, my first instinct is to check out our enclosed patch named our garden. Starlings were feasting on yoghurt pots filled with homemade bird cakes and were dangling like gifts of love... Sunday morning felt so serene. Not a flying flurry or grain of ice in sight. I kept a packet of oatmeals for ground feeders. Snow's like a quilt, but to our feathered friends, autumn became invisible.
Without a sigh, the afternoon unleashed the dark side of the postcard! Wonderland turned hellish outside - starlings sought shelter from the monster blowing ice...
A strange arctic blue filled our sky, as wings fled away in terror.
The island vanished in the snow.
This constant game of hide-and-seek lasted till dusk - and as I type, flurries still knock at my window from time to time.
I dare to imagine starlings roosting away from ice... How many will see next morning, as more oatmeals will adorn snow.
Today's haiku fae 60N
bird cakes adorn our willow trees -
our gifts of love for wings to come.