In a staring gaze outside of the studio window this mesmerized muse become one with the elements of nature. A gray chunky squirrel shimmies up the curved rod iron pole where the bird feeder is hung to fill his hungry jowls, before scurrying back into the hollowed out tunnel of the old catalpa tree. In a swift red blaze the cardinals’ swoop down darting in and out like flashing beacon lights against the winter white sky. A puffy pair of mourning doves roost nestled close together in the middle of the evergreen. Heavy wet snowfall weighs down the leafless branches of the cherry tree, while little chickadees, nuthatches, and swamp sparrows fly wildly free like dragonflies and fireflies in the summer time.  A hairy red-capped woodpecker diligently drills away at the chipped brown window frame, the draft from the old window is bone shivering, my hands cup warmly around a coffee mug inscribed, Grandmothers are just “antique” little girls! Her little pink swing swirls round and round empty in the hallooing wind.