Our Minnesota spring has gone AWOL. Grey days, cold weather, and no real reprieve forecast has left me desperately looking for any signs of better days ahead. So far I have seen one brave motorcyclist on the highway, and my day lilies have poked their green heads about an inch out of the frigid earth. Meager offerings at best.
Vexingly, I had not seen a robin, the gold standard for spring’s arrival. My neighbor said she had seen one, and a couple of days ago my husband said he’d seen one while walking our dog Booker. I’m not a one to hold a grudge at their good fortune…much…but I vowed I would see one today. I NEEDED to see one today.
My morning walk with Booker produced nothing in the way of red breasts except maybe my own. (It was still very nippy out and I should have worn a heavier coat. What? To much information?) All throughout the day I would pause at a window and search the lawn and trees for a robin. Nothing.
About 5 p.m. I opened the garage door and put the leash on Booker. As I stepped onto the driveway I heard a cacophony of song. Looking upwards, and I swear this is true, I must have seen fifty robins flying over head, sky dancing, and landing in our trees. I laughed and said, “Thank you!!!!!â€
It was the best part of my day.
