As the sap runs in the Maples these days, it runs in me as well. Spring has begun the thaw in my veins, I feel a thinner blood coursing there. The tonic I take does not derive itself from digging Sassafras or searching the ground, yet- for new green... it is the bird songs, the new tunes I'm hearing these days that really gets my blood flowing.
As I exited the truck yesterday after work, heading straight for the chicken coop to gather eggs, petting the heads of the ever playful, faithful Gideon and Gracie(faithful as in waiting for perhaps a cracked egg to be tossed their way...)I noticed the newest singer on the farm. The melody stopped me in my tracks. Did it come from the pines? Yes, it sounded like it came from over there...so, off my course I wandered-must have gotten to close, for the shrill whistles stopped for a time. I stood, still... and waited for the music, the song of Spring...I could not detect the little bird making the sound with my eyes, though thankfully, as I listened-the song began again. I found myself a happy spot there, in that moment...the experience welling up in me as a yearning, an awakening too-and a putting to bed, almost- of the harsh cold winter.
I find winter can be, at this time of year especially- like a child who is too sleepy, disgruntled, dragging it's feet before it retires...whining in winds, crying in precipitation like tears from rain storms, and even still-an ice and snow covering as it's security blanket. Perhaps that is why the little birds sing...to help put winter to bed, to sing to it sweetly- a lullaby of Spring.
Beautiful day to you, take care-
