There's something so cheerful about a flock of waxwings. The sound they make, the way they flit from one branch to the next, and their sense of community. Nothing stops me in my tracks like their "murmuration" flights across the sky -- they seem to become a single organism that ebbs and flows as it moves like the wind. The picture at the bottom was snapped just as they took off from the trees, and where there was a lot of noisy excitement one moment, there was nothing the next.
Grey winter mornings aren't quite so grey when blessings like this appear out of nowhere!
