In the Cold of Winter Springs Promise

You can go for months, it seems, without seeing a single bird outside my window.  And then one day in February, in sub-freezing temperatures still, there are more birds than you can possibly count.  Mostly American robins, it seems they return to their original homes to nest and reproduce; but also an occasional bluejay or two, hanging out in the wrong neighborhood.  Hundreds of them in Hitchcockian fashion -- they seem almost to be swarming when they fly, connected by an inner radio, in concert perhaps.

If I were a migratory bird, I think I'd put this trip off another month or so.  It's supposed to be 9 degrees (F) Sunday, with wind chill readings below Zero!

But I guess they know their mission, their purpose, their community.  Maybe it's the ever so slightly longer days.  Maybe it's the onset of Lent, with Ash Wednesday yesterday.  Maybe it's the ripening of the beautiful red holly berries; we'll know soon enough if they're gone at the end of the day or week.

One thing for sure to me today.  Their appearance is a harbinger of spring, even more so than Punxsutawney Phil's shadow-watch on February 2nd.

And this onset brings the promise of life anew -- leaves and flowers, grass and warmth.  Baseball and golf even!

For the beauty of the earth,
for the glory of the skies,
for the love which from our birth
over and around us lies;

For the beauty of each hour
of the day and of the night,
hill and vale and tree and flower,
sun and moon and stars of light,

Lord of all, to thee we raise
this our hymn of grateful praise.