This week the Canadian geese returned. I think they probably winter in the Chesapeake Bay area. First there were six and then eleven and then thirteen. First the grass was not covered in snow. Then for three days rain and snow alternated, with a thin white cover each morning. They were undaunted, they searched for green shoots under the dry brown top layer and under the snow. They are not fat but they are not thin either; they have taken good care o themselves and had enough to eat, even if they did have to flap their wings for three or four hundred miles. Today the snow is gone again, the sun is brilliant. I saw a robin scurrying on the lawn. If it stays nice the forsythia will begin to open. Spring is always a time of rejoicing. Yes I know it will come and in a sense I take that assurance for granted but the beauty today after the gray, wet, chill of most of the week is glorious.
The mid-70s are a surprise! Part of me remains in the 50s -- age, I mean, not decade of 20th century. It's a joy ride, new experiences land in my lap and I've become a better quilter, poet, writer than I expected. It's a rich life for a person never rich financially. Hey, this is what the mid-70s are like!