"Language, as well as the faculty of speech, was the immediate gift of God." ~ Noah Webster

Monday, March 4, 2013

March into Spring

March 4th, 2013 ~ Big fat sigh!  March is finally here! I'm not so sure it is coming in like a lion, though.  Remember that old saying about March.."in like a lion; out like a lamb."   I guess we did have some winds in the last day or two, but it is beautiful today. A bit cold though, my thermometer says 29.  But the sun is out, and all is calm and quiet.

Yesterday, I saw my first robin. Well I guess I have seen one at my folks earlier, but yesterday was the first time I have seen one in our yard.  I am going to keep better track this year.  I always try to keep a record of the things I like to know, like the first robin, the first bluebird sighting and when I hear the first meadow lark of the season. I keep records of everything we do with the hay and the garden, and things like that.  But I am going to keep closer watch this year, I am going to observe more, take in the moment more, slow down a bit, sit outside more.  I'm going to do more of everything unimportant, more of everything that may seem like it is not productive. 

Oh, don't worry; I will work hard. There is no choice in that; things simply need to be done.  I don't have to tell myself to do more of that...it doesn't give me a choice.  But this year, I am going to live in the moment just a bit more. The moments are going way tooooo fast.  It's time to slow down and enjoy them.

So, that little robin?  He was looking for something to eat in the places without snow in the yard. He was very fat and I believe he was happy. The red of his breast seemed to be bursting in pride.  He has been here before and he is happy to be back.

“Hope” is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops — at all –

And sweetest — in the Gale — is heard –
And sore must be the storm –
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm –

I’ve heard it in the chillest land –
And on the strangest Sea –
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb — of Me.  
                ~Emily Dickenson

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