Here’s a picture of my back yard from early January.

And here’s one from early February.

It’s been a snowy winter so far. Maybe a record, or near a record, but I’d have to look that up, and don’t feel like it.

When I heard last week that Pete Seeger died, it was a sad moment, but only a moment, since I didn’t actually know the man. I only know him from his recorded voice, films, two live appearances in Tennessee in the mid-80s, and what little I remember from reading, many years ago, the 1981 biography How Can I Keep from Singing: The Ballad of Pete Seeger, by David K. Dunaway. I’ve long had an unusual interest in Pete Seeger for someone my age.

Ninety-four is a good run. More than most of us get.