The last weeks of winter are always so hard to get through. Seemingly endless days of grey, overcast skies, mounds of dirty crystallized snow, puddles and ice mixing into a slippery cocktail that coats the sidewalks and roads.
Winter’s beauty is long past, her coat patched and threadbare but hanging on nonetheless. The birds are returning, their songs echoing through the frosty mists but the earth sleeps on, shrouded by the dregs of a season reluctant to depart.
As the days slowly lengthen, the cold will eventually surrender to the warmth of spring. Soon, hopefully, the birds can cheerfully herald winter’s demise as the sun breathes life back into the frozen earth so its song can be heard one more time.