There are winter days when birds chatter in the hedges and what sun there is feels warm on the face. Holly berries gleam, set off by the occasional flash of scarlet from a cardinal.

I think of these days as “winter lite.” There is still a texture to them. They don’t yet have the scoured look and acrid smell of January cold. Yesterday was one of these days: it started cold but finished bright and sunny. Downy woodpeckers discovered the suet block and chickadees chittered at the feeder.

We bought our Christmas tree at a lovely church lot, rather than driving an hour west of here to cut it down. It was a welcome change — carols rang out over the parking lot and eager Boy Scouts put the tree on top of our car.

Winter lite: I’ll take it.