I live in Maine. We don’t even talk about spring until April makes its entrance. When Punxsutawney Phil sees his shadow and forecasters cry, “Six more weeks of winter.” we all scoff, “If only!”
But last week we had days tapping 60 degrees. The two feet of snow on the ground surrendered to the sun leaving only gray piles of abandoned road sand and islands of icy patches.
Yesterday I heard the call of a Red-Winged Blackbird. For me, THAT is the siren of spring. I raced to the window to spy the songster. I tried hard not to let myself get excited. There he was! “Conkareeeee! I’m back!” he sang out, over and over.
I can’t get spring fever yet! Stella is on my doorstep and she’s visiting with a vengeance. Now someone else is singing out! Hang on little blackbird, it’s going to get nasty!