I did not feed the birds on the ground for a day or two after the melting snow uncovered seeds the last storm covered up. The hanging feeders are full and there was plenty of food available. When I glanced out Sunday late afternoon, an object moved in the bare spot under the big spruce tree. After three surprised looks I decided it was – a Robin! It has probably been a winter “stay over” but that fat red breast and the puffed up feathers were a welcome sight. It has returned again to the same spot and is usually there just before dusk.

The good was followed by the bad. While Susan was visiting, a hawk suddenly flew into the yard – fluttered its wings and flew back into the tree. It confirmed my suspicion that the scarcity of birds for a week was due to their wariness; they knew an enemy was nearby.

I decided to look through some of the old diaries from the ancestors up in Sherman, 120 years ago. In front of the 1881 diary there are several pages of information, including “Rates of Postage.” Postcards are listed at one cent each and will go to all parts of the United States and Canada. For an additional one cent they will go to all parts of Europe.

Letters to all parts of the United States and Canada are three cents for half an ounce. Local letters or “drop letters” for the city where deposited are two cents if delivered by carrier, or one cent where there is no carrier system.

February 1 that year was an unpleasant day. Betsey Barnes wrote, “Cloudy and pouring rain all day. Very little stir on the street. Not a caller today. At eight o’clock the wind rises in the south. Cold more severe than at any time this winter. Cold, colder, coldest.”

The following day, Betsey wrote, “Coldest we’ve had all winter. Best of all, we have plenty of food and good wood. Sally called today and reports snow drifts on the road, but she walked over them. No one else tride to walk or ride.”

Cold continued all week and finally the writer reported, “Roads have been opened for teams carrying milk, today. It will need to open again tomorrow as it is blowing again now.” An incidental entry at the end of the storm report said, “A daughter born to Fred Hungerford this pm.”

By Sunday, Feb. 20, the diary says, “Mild, fair day today. Teams pass to church.” Only one day later it was snowing again, and “only eight teams have gone by to a sociable held at Mason Pickets tonight.”

No radio. No television. No bus or train or transportation except by “team.” A person relied on weather, visits from other villagers, church services, and an occasional “sociable” to fill their lives. Winters were hard, but if a family had enough food and wood to heat the house, they waited patiently for spring.

Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote the words that ended last week’s column.

Who wrote, “Though I am an old man, I am but a young gardener”?