two squirrels, orange and black

two squirrels, orange and black,

nibbling seeds shed by a dead 

black locust tree

When I go out to get a load of wood after dark, I'm surprised to find frilly flakes filling the air and coating the ground. By morning, temperatures have plummeted into the teens (11 F/-11 C), turning the snow into tiny pellets like sugar sprinkles on frosting. Back to normal January weather. 
          A magnificent whitetail buck bolts across the road when I drive into town, carrying his crown of antlers held high. The gravel road is slick with patches of ice under the snow. Around the last steep turn, a car has slid off the road, missing a couple of big trees and plowing over a retaining wall, but stopping short of the pond.
          On campus, I stop to watch a pair of squirrels busily nibbling black locust pods, holding the long, flat, curved pods between their paws and delicately extracting the shiny brown seeds. The fox squirrel, sitting at the base of the tree, ignores my presence, but the black squirrel, who was perched on a knob of the tree, is skittish. It scoots down the trunk and runs to the edge of the pile of locust pods to eat at its "flight distance" from my perceived threat. 
          Sadly, the big black locust tree is dead, perhaps a victim of last summer's drought. The bark is peeling off the trunk, but its bumper crop of seeds, those not eaten by squirrels or deer, will sprout in the spring, and those not mowed down may find a safe nook where they can grow.
          Tonight the crescent moon looks like the golden grin of the Cheshire cat. But it's too cold to stand outside for long, admiring our cousin as she slowly slips into the black arms of the trees.