For the past week our yard has become an arena for a chorus of chattering tweets. Finding the source is like a playing a game of Where’s Waldo. You hear the sound and look in every which way. Then another tweet chimes in and it throws you off. This place is going to the birds…literally. Yesterday’s rain brought upon us a wormy suicide that I haven’t seen in ages. While the rain directed us inside, it was like a great big party out there for our feathered friends. They were going to and fro, twigs and worms to their beaks, whistling blissfully while they worked. They seemed to be in a frenzy picking up as much as they could, knowing their opportunity would be fleeting. You felt happy for them knowing their starved winter bellies would now be full. This morning, as I waited for the bus with Kate, this little one serenaded her reminding her of how lucky we are that spring is here.. It feels good to know that hope springs eternal for us while it sings eternal for them .
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