Um, feather weather? Tote Trove Lady, didn't you mean sweater weather? No, dear readers, I did not. Feather weather is how I like to think of November. You know, when the first breath of cold blows in and the leaves are falling and the birds have headed south, leaving only their punky plumage as a reminder. Which fits right in with Thanksgiving as kindergartners all over the country adorn themselves with colorful feathers. Or, less imaginatively, buckles and bonnets. Let's be honest; being a Native American is much cooler than being a Pilgrim. Even if my seventh grade social studies teacher summed up the historical inaccuracies of Disney's Pocahontas thusly: "Also, she (Pocahontas) wasn't that pretty."
On that note, here's a little feathered friend who's indisputably cute. It's none other than an eastern goldfinch (the New Jersey state bird!) that the husband glimpsed through my parents' window this summer:
Now that he's gone, I miss him. Because when it comes to the colors of the wind, yellow is always my favorite.