There are signs of it--small signs--but evidence, nonetheless. We squint and gaze hard out the window each morning for a promise that it's really coming. Finally, we load up in the truck and go looking for Spring. It must be out there somewhere. We figure that maybe, just maybe, if we get in the vicinity of nature, we'll have us a closer look and validate our long-awaited hope.
Upon arrival at one of our favourite spots, we notice the creek has thawed and it curves and sinks around snowy banks like warm fudge poured over a bowl of cold vanilla ice cream. A bright red cardinal cheers as if to say he sees it too, and alighting on a branch jutting out from the snow, he becomes the cherry on top in this optimistic scene. The recently silent woods is now alive with calls, squawks and twitters practicing their chorus that expectantly welcomes old friends returning from the south. On this trip, we don't catch too many more signs except that we can now step across the little boardwalk that was buried in snow like piles of whipped cream just a few weeks earlier. That's enough for us. Hope springs up inside of us and we're grateful that the melting of that sweet, white offering we'd dreamed about at Christmas, is now dripping away, revealing new, delicious gifts.
