By Bill Wilson
Snow up north, rain down south, while here at home layers converge. Warm air slides over cold, day slips away into night as fronts collide and mingle in the dark. Morning. Bejeweled flora garbed in rigid gelid glaze, paths to feeders frozen smooth, sloped terrain a one-way glide. A gilded sun tiptoes over the ridge revealing a muted crystal sweep. Night. January’s Wolf Moon, canine blood spirits darkness away while winter hills wink in fragile glints and tinsels. Lunar perigee chills hoary souls as coyote choir natters approval to its celestial cousin.