It’s nearly impossible to keep this drafty farmhouse warm in late January. We stoke the fire and burn stacks of wood in vain. Rufus has been on a mission all winter to tighten up the numerous breaches where cold air seeps, sometimes pours into our space. He walks from window to wall with his hands measuring the temperature differences, filling cracks, and cursing this old ice box. Today he took on some attic space, and I jokingly asked if he was going to conduct a bird count while he was up there, as I hear their day to day activities and wonder myself what size flock is up there. He chuckles and goes about his methodical business of stopping the outdoors from coming in.

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