Spring
In Michigan, that translates to the world is mud-colored and chilly, and yet a hint of moisture and growth is in the air.
I always advise our extended international family members not to visit in March, as the silver skies, grey branches and beige grass ground are not worth visiting, when lush greens and pinks will soon flood the trails and byways.
In the midst of all this mud this morning, looking out my kitchen window and desperately counting the seconds until coffee would be ready, there was a splash of brilliant red, hopping about in the back part of my decrepit garden.
This cardinal and its mate are consistently helpmates in my getting through the boring winters. For these past years, they have truly been boring - no snow to play in or make the world sparkle, just endless rain. Dreary. Daily drear.
It seems that every year these two cardinals flutter about our yard and the woods behind it, and provide us with a slight break from the doldrums.
My other break comes when I cross the nearby bridge and watch the two swans, who have made our section of river their homes. There will be cygnets soon, and we'll have the pleasure of watching them learn from their parents.
I wonder how long swans live?
These two have been here as long as we have - 7 years. I've grown very fond of them and have been worried, as I read the global reports of bird flu, not only for the obvious, devastating reasons, but also that my beloved swans may be rounded up and slaughtered at some point.
With the spring will come fawns, cygnets, goslings and other signs of nature and growth.
But I'll have especial fondness for the little cygnets and tiny cardinals, swooping through the bluer sky.
What's Cooking
Don't rightly know again. I didn't make the meatballs yesterday, so I may make meatloaf today. I might bake something, if I feel the urge - I've got lots to catch up on today, though, so it's unlikely.
