There are things one forgets over the long cold winter, things one slowly rediscovers as winter reluctantly fades away and the world starts coming to life again. And every year I am swept away by the miracle of renewal.
It starts with rediscovering what warm sun feels like, even through a raw south wind. Then there is the sight of bare ground—well, mud, but still earth. Then there is the sunny day when I absolutely cannot resist opening a window, and the cats and I bask in the sunshine for a brief while till the chilliness takes over again. And the birds… There is nothing that makes me catch my breath more than hearing the first meadowlark of spring.
I notice the same things over and over again every year, and every year I wonder how I could have forgotten. The excited chirping of birds early in the morning. The feel of a breeze on bare arms and legs. The sleepy twittering of birds in the evening. The smell of fresh-mown grass.
But, most of all, I notice the birds.