Twenty-two degrees this morning at 8 o'clock.  Frozen hummingbird breakfast.  In our twelve-and-a-half years here we've never had frozen hummingbird juice.  If they had arrived, I'd be bringing in the feeders for a few more nights until this cold snap passes.  This morning it was frozen clear through to the base.  

Yesterday morning only about a third of it froze.

 Putting all that aside, we have multiple signs of spring to celebrate. The daffodils, tulips, and sourwood trees are in full bloom.  Dogwood trees are beginning to show their creamy white buds.  Bright yellow finches and the wood thrush hop around the ground looking for insects and seeds.  There are four eggs in the Carolina wren nest on the porch.  We're hoping they are still alive after the last two night's freezing conditions.  

Thursday we celebrated our anniversary, a day early,  at the Longhorn Steakhouse, because Friday Cliff was scheduled for his port surgery.  Our server had an aura of caring energy when she spoke to us.  I told her we were cerebrating our thirty-ninth anniversary and that Cliff would be starting his first chemo treatment for pancreatic cancer on Monday so this was a special day for us.  She sat down beside me, put her hands out for Cliff and me to join, and said a prayer for us and for the surgical team.  I was shocked when Cliff actually put his hand in hers because he doesn't take to strangers easily.  Her words hit a place in our hearts and we both sobbed quietly as we felt her compassion fill us.  She understood what we were feeling because her father had cancer.  

She surprised us with a hot-fudge sundae for dessert and comped the meal. 

We're still being overwhelmed by the outpouring of love and kindness that blossoms.  Bill, our next door neighbor who lost his first wife to cancer, offered to keep me company at the hospital during Cliff's outpatient surgery Friday morning.  He spent five hours with me.  We got McDonald's coffees, went back to the lobby in one of the buildings, relaxed and chatted. I didn't do any walking that morning, too breezy and cold. Another neighbor up the road picks up our trash every Saturday morning on his way to the recycle center. The news media wants viewers to believe that the world is full of horribly distorted hateful people. There is so much love and goodness in this world but love and compassion don't make the news or sell products.

 Still watching the feeders for the first hummingbird.  It'll be any day now.  Tonight and tomorrow night should be the last of the really cold nights.