Finally, I looked out into the sky above the prairie and spotted the source: one lone goose, the first I'd seen since this time last year, headed toward the bird sanctuary next to our house. He was flapping and honking, honking and flapping, as if to say (warning: shameless anthropomorphizing ahead), "I'm here! I'm here! I'm here." (Or, "I just flew in from Mexico, and boy are my arms tired.") His honk sounded like someone opening a big, rusty metal door over and over again, and it was a glorious sound. It was the kind of sound that made me want to honk right back at him or maybe start dancing in place. It was the sound of nature's orchestra getting ready to warm up the instruments.
The music hasn't begun in full yet, but activity in that orchestra pit is heating up. After our brutal winter in which all music and rhythm seemed to be pummelled and then buried under icy sludge, I'm almost getting used to the sound of birds calling to each other first thing in the morning; The sight of green grass clumps here and there on the property no longer startles me; My crocus leaves poked through the ground last week, and I spent a few hours yesterday with a couple of little girls - spring's sparkling, unencumbered poster children - planting some late, pink tulip bulbs and gathering eggs from the coop (eggs which made a great snack when we came back inside and cooked them up).
There's no way to capture this fleeting return of the rebirth season really, no way to preserve it in Mason jars or on film as the commercials would have us believe. I guess the best I can do is give it a shout out. So, "Yo! Spring! Good to see ya back!"Follow @nicole_mcinnes
YO, SPRING! YO, GREEN GRASS! YO, DRY DIRT! YO, NEW BIRDIES!
ReplyDeletelol
ReplyDeleteSO glad to know someone else is sharing the love.
:-)