The morning sunlight shines on the birch tree's snow laden branches outside; I can almost feel its warmth surrounding me. Almost half of the stacked wood on the porch has been used; this provides me a feeling of hope that spring is growing near, that the green of the grass will soon show. The snow sparkles with sunbeam light; the sky has lightened from its usual muted gray to a faint blue powder. There are hundreds of gold finches at the bird feeders fluttering from the feeders to the tree limbs and back again. Sometimes larger birds that I try to identify show up for a snack; but, most times, just the finches, blue jays, and woodpeckers are around. The finches are so plentiful, they look like small Christmas ornaments sitting on the tree limbs. There is a squirrel sitting sedately on the wood pile in front of my window, happy, no doubt, for the shelter from the snow and wind. Every day he runs around on this porch, scurrying into the attic whenever we intrude into his winter accommodations. I often see him sitting and eating one of the many sunflowers he's stolen from the birdseed container. The squirrel had to rip and chew through plastic to achieve his goal. Even after duck taping the hole and putting various heavy objects over it to deter him, he continues to grow fat from the free food. He did not let anything stop him from achieving his goal of attaining the seeds; I should learn something from this. Glancing with somehow different eyes at the thick shimmering snow covering the ground, and dotting the trees with cotton-like snow balls, I realize I have been staring out this window for three months trying to tell this story, to leave the silence behind. My Grandmother's story about her high school days come back to my mind. I remember what she said to the young man who sexually harassed her, "I shouted, 'Leave me alone! Stop it!" She wasn't silent in dealing with being harassed. She fought back. She taught Mom a way to break the silence as well. Perhaps, after watching the seasons change and seeing the ways the animals have adapted to it, I'm finally beginning to learn that I don't need my silence any longer.