I hear that the birds are making their way Upstate now. Good news for those of us weary of winter. As a kid, I don't remember winters being so long and gloomy. Was that just the optimism of childhood, or were winters truly better then? The past few winters have been especially gloomy, what with the headlines and depressing news and all. Makes a person feel downright glum to read of all the crap going on in the world, especially right here in my state and local area. Greedy politicians and crime isn't as distant and far-removed as it once was, it seems.

But the birds. They don't seem to be affected at all. As I write, twilight descends, and the birds are singing like there's no tomorrow. Besides the usual crow and bluejay, I also hear the raspy, razor-like twang of the red-winged blackbird. And a mourning dove is somewhere very near. His hollow "hoooh" is downright welcoming. He hasn't been reading the newspapers, sounds like.

Still, winter isn't quite over. Always hanging over our heads-- until well into April-- is the apprehension that a freeze or Noreaster will strike, dropping heavy snow and our hearts with it. So while we're thrilled to see the lilies peeping up and the days lasting longer, we don't dare pack away our winter boots and snow shovels yet. Not yet.

As I get older, I like spring more and more. As a kid and young mother, it was such an inconvenience, an annoying delay before summer. But now, now that I am happy to take things easier and enjoy the smaller, sweeter things of life, I like spring. Summer comes too quickly now, and after that, autumn and winter again. Too fast.



But the birds are unaffected by time just as much as they unaffected by politics and taxes and making Branson vacation packages. They cheerfully chirp on, morning and evening. It's so good to hear them again. Welcome back, birds!