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April 28,2004 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.
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