The birds have declared "Spring"
 

in my little corner of the land.

I had the most beautiful walk this morning as I listened to them.

Too bad tomorrow is going to be frozen, again.


One of Emerson's Poems comes to mind:

The Apology

Think me no unkind and rude
That I walk alone in grove and glen;
I go to the god of the wood
To fetch his word to men.

Tax not my sloth that I
Fold my arms beside the brook;
Each cloud that floated in the sky
Writes a letter in my book.

Chide me not, laborious band,
For the idle flowers I brought;
Every aster in my hand
Goes home loaded with a thought.

There was never mystery
But 'tis figured in the flowers;
Was never secret history
But birds tell it in the bowers.

One harvest from the field
Homeward brought the oxen strong;
A second crop thine acres yield
Which I gather in a song.