Signs of spring have multiplied this wee. The sky has been more blue than gray, the temperatures are warming, the snow piles are almost gone, and the grass is greening. Still, this morning’s brisk wind made my walk chilly, so chilly I wore my winter pants and needed a scarf around my face.
Cold as it was, I didn’t expect any hints of spring to cheer this late March day. But they were everywhere. My neighbor, obviously much tougher than me, wore shorts on her morning walk. Robins perched in the trees and on fence lines, singing as though the day was balmy and the winds were calm. A meadowlark sang in the field. Cardinals warbled from treetops, their feathers glowing crimson against a bright blue sky.
The birds, camera shy this early in the season, flew away each time I fumbled for my Canon Rebel. But when I walked by the grocery store, the truck crew had barely started unloading pallets stacked high with garden mulch. The forklift didn’t move nearly as fast as the robins, though the driver probably wondered about the crazy woman, bundled up like it was still January, taking his picture.
His opinion, whatever it was, didn’t phase me one bit. My soul feasted on the unmistakable proof that winter is over, no matter how chilly the temperature is. Peace enveloped me as the workers buzzed around. My hopefulness increased as they transferred the semi’s cargo from trailer to parking lot, one forkliftful of spring at a time.
