Time to walk the dogs, one old and frail, the other full of energy and life. No need for hats and gloves today, but boots are a required apparel. We leash up and open the door to a blinding white light. What is that thing up there? Could it be? Yes, I'm sure the sun is serious this time. Spring is in the air, the birds are singing, and we all sense it.
We surge forward, through the massive river held in check by the drainage system of my hometown. The young one plunging through puddles with glee, and the old man, seeking the path around.
Noses plunge into crumbling snowbanks as the softening snow releases a season of frozen scents. Not in a hurry, I wait patiently for their brains to soak it all in. There's no need to hurry. I have the sweet twitters of the winter-weary birds to keep me company.
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