Carrying groceries into my cottage on a late March afternoon, I heard rustling at the edge of the woods, followed by a flurry of chickadees fleeing the area. Perhaps my cat Chloe was terrorizing them again? Then, out of the brush jumped a large slate-gray bird. A grouse? No, those are brown. A bluejay? Its head was too round. A mourning dove? Not with that long striped tail. I could not make sense of this bird that was now perched proudly on a low twig just yards away.
Just quiet down, and you’ll hear new life rumbling in its birth pangs. Daffodil tips green up, stretching for warming sun. Roots swell with moisture below. Flora, goddess of flowers and spring, is refreshing the cycle of growth.
