Insensibly Happy

On a chilly, gray December morning, the third or fourth such in a row, when it looks like I may not be able to ride outside for days, and amid the prospect of driving to and from work in freezing rain or heavy snow, it makes me insensibly happy to watch the tufted titmouse and black-capped chickadee flit around our seed bell on our back deck, and the squirrel on the ground below jump about scooping up the leftovers.