Writings in the Sand

Ready for transition

Although the wintry mix of sleet and snow falling this morning batters my window with every gust of wind that interrupts its otherwise ground-ward travel plans, I definitely hear the first sounds of approaching spring. Birdsong. And the songs I hear are those of returning species. I don't notice when they've gone away but I definitely notice when they return. The cat notices, too. It gives her something interesting to watch at the window after a long , boring winter of mostly white landscapes and few woodland creatures to observe except for the odd squirrel or a few, squawking crows. She's mad about crows.

I have never been so keen on spring before as I am this year. Generally, I prefer winter snow to spring showers, slush to mud, bare trees to leaves. Perhaps it is age, perhaps it is my dismay upon seeing the heating bill, but this year I am not unhappy to see winter off.

Grey skies notwithstanding, the birds are returning to prepare for spring. I am going to hope they know something I don't, because all I see from here is winter.