There is a wood thrush in my backyard singing a song despite the thirty something degree drizzly gray day we have going on. It is February, after all, which means one day may be glorious like yesterday –sunny, clear blue skies, with the next reminding us that it is winter. For those of you who love winter, I apologize for what I am about to write.
How many more below thirty bone chilling dark windy days have you got left, mama nature? I am tired of the cold air fogging up my glasses, getting my coat caught in the car door, slip sliding down the driveway on black ice and the endless cloudy gray days.
Yes, I know there is nothing like the quiet majesty of freshly fallen snow or the bare branches of trees, but it is time. So I am on the look out for signs that mama might be ready to move on. My singing buddy is certainly one sign and the buds on branches are another.