After an almost complete absence over the winter months we now have birds galore again around the acreage. They have found and emptied the feeders of the leftover seeds from last fall, so I really need to get back in the habit of filling them again. So far we have seen the usual army of robins, who have been mating with each other seemingly non-stop for weeks now, and a scattering of little sparrows, a couple of red wing blackbirds (probably just passing through, we have yet to see any nest here) some crows, a blue jay, a mourning dove and some various finches.
As a kid I was sort of indifferent to the season of spring, which seemed to me to stand in the way of the very important season of summer. My mother always loved spring and when we were out and about she would point out, and name, the various flowering trees, bushes and ground flowers. I remember being impressed that she knew so many names of the spring flora, but still, I saw the season as a pause before the real deal of summer. As I have grown older I have come to enjoy the spring much more, which might have something to do with liking winter much less. Summer is still great (but it seems to be getting hotter and dryer) and autumn might be the best if it led into spring and not winter.
I checked out a book from our local library recently titled The Collected Poems of Walter de la Mare. I came across a lovely poem in it titled, simply, “Spring.”
Now the slim almond tree
Tells April soon will be
Scattering her petals where
Snow still lies cold and bare.
Birds in its leafing boughs
Echoes of spring arouse.
Piercing the drowsy earth,
Crocus her flower brings forth –
Wooing the bees. And soon
Winter’s ice-silvered moon
Shall melt, shall kindle on high
Springtime within the sky.
Off The Back Porch 