Winter slothfulness

Snow falling on cedars. Birds scampering across our outside deck, vying for seeds we scattered. For some reason, two victims this morning, birds trying to enter our sun room and smashing into the glass window. One dead, one apparently survived. There is no grief among the survivors, only continuing competition for free food.
Our cedar Christmas tree is stripped of it's lights and decorations and now sits outside where birds use it's limbs for brief respites. When cardinals come, drab cedars turn back into gaudy Christmas trees. Red, white and green are today's colors. White swirls across the deck. Finches, juncos in numbers; woodpeckers at the beef fat hanging.
Inside, warm, and reflective, I am two weeks past knee surgery. Two weeks of forced reticence and, yes, pain. But I have given myself over to modern chemistry and little white pills. They have helped stay the gremlin while I've watched Kathy carry in firewood, stoke the fire, feed the birds, and absorb other tasks that are normally mine. But, I progress, if slowly.
Rock Eddy Bluff Farm is closed and will be for several weeks. I have fallen backward into sloth and indolence, while outside the birds struggle and flit in the cold whiteness. Nearby, green cedars frame a snow covered landscape running onward to a grey horizon.
There is a certain zen today, one of simple awareness.