Early Spring

The light rain patters peacefully outside my open window. It’s chilly (43 degrees), but I have the window by my desk open so I can hear the gentle thrumming of the rain. A Crow caws in the distance, a Cardinal calls somewhere across the trickling stream, a Titmouse sings nearby, and there’s some sharp chirping in the shrubs that I can’t identify. Spring sounds, erasing the cold of winter and sparking the hope of warm days and abundant life to come.

Right outside my window the curved branches of the Horse Chestnut boast sienna-colored buds—they won’t bloom for two months, but they’re already swelling with the first sweet surge of spring. As I watch, a Titmouse pops into one of the holes in the trunk, rustles around, then flies out—I’m hoping she’ll nest there, then bring her fledglings to the feeder.
I wanted more snow, so I could get out on snowshoes again, but now that The Great Melt is happening, I’m looking ahead to shirt sleeves, warm earth, and spring flowers. I've moved from Cabin Fever to Spring Fever, and it’s time to get outside.