Yesterday I heard a cardinal sing. Dare I hope Spring will return with zephyrs softly breathed? (I remember that line from a long-ago song sung by my high school madrigal group.) Now I wait for the return of the blackbirds. This truly is my Spring thing, besides the return of Sandhills. I think Jan and I will be heading out to Nebraska next week-end to see the crane migration. The beauty of organized chaos in motion.
Hopefully we're saying a final farewell to the polluted, frozen concoction of salt, car effluent and garbage as it melts under the warming sun. Another harbinger, albeit, unsightly one, of Spring. I adore snow (when not on the roadways) but abhor it's unnatural shade of sludge.
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