Think, every morning when the sun peeps through
The dim, leaf-latticed windows of the grove,
How jubilant the happy birds renew
Their old, melodious madrigals of love!
And when you think of this, remember too
'T is always morning somewhere, and above
The awakening continent; from shore to shore,
Somewhere the birds are singing evermore.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Tales of a Wayside Inn
Mid March and David and I make our annual trek south to the Okanagan and Similkameen to visit family, gather prunings from the orchards for next years rings, do a little rock hunting for interesting inlays and quickly down to Vancouver to see medical specialists who seem for the most part to gravitate closer to the 49th parallel along with the rest of Canada's population.
We're maybe a little bushed, having been glued to the meadow since last June. It's been a difficult 6 months for us with David landing in hospital due to an acutely herniated disc in his back, and then the death of his dear Dad back in November... been a tough go.
Vincent is back home on the meadow so we know that all will be well taken care of here. The blackbirds are back too, about 20 now and more every day. Juncos, flickers, and our spring meadowlark should show up soon ...
We leave as we do almost every year, just as spring begins to show her bright green head here and there through the expanses of snow which until now have been broken only by the paw prints of foxes, coyotes, rabbits, moose and our own tracks.
Down south it will be early spring.
In a few weeks we will have the added bonus of arriving back home to enjoy our own early spring. And life is good.