We arrived at the farm early today to do our share of shoveling pellets and pitching hay. As my wife opened the front gate and my daughter and I drove Angus up to the barn something new caught my eye. There, among the just-greening grass and old wrung out wooden posts, was a flash of blue and a new whistling song I hadn't heard in a long time. The blue, of course, materialized into the form of a small bluebird perching on one of the fenceposts, singing his little heart out. Then there were two, and three!
The ground is soggy, not frozen hard. The pond has thawed completely, leading the neighbors to oil their ice skate blades and pack them away until next winter. Even the bulbs are poking their first tentative green shoots through the now thawing soil, ready to spring up into fantastic shows of color any day.
Spring is soon. Very soon. The air is filled with birdsong this morning, a first in many months. We can't wait.
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