Ending Winter

Something ends winter. Something that has nothing to do with temperature ends winter. The water in the river is still cold, so cold it makes your ankles ache if you stay in it too long. And there are still nights to be that will burn tomato plants forced to brave the frontiers of a Spring still a little too far away. But no, it isn’t that. What it is, is the trees, and the goldfinches. Together they end winter. Look outside now; there are buds on all the trees but the pecans. Green buds, pink buds and flowers on the redbuds, and azaleas of all hues are ending winter as we write or read these lines. As you look out of the back door, you see brown tones and you can still see the river through the forest. In a little while you will look harder to see the river and green will be everywhere. And the goldfinches have vacated the snack bar we provided in January and February. They have the task of ending winter all the way north as they pass to places suitable for nesting. Weeks ago we counted them in the hundreds, stoking their fires on black oil sunflower seeds. But all of a sudden they are gone, or nearly so. The budding trees are providing fare not available in winter and less monotonous than sunflower seeds for breakfast, lunch and dinner. So the goldfinches have ended winter for us, and the budding trees promise a green border on the river. There is nothing static about the swamp. Winter is over.

Rise and Shine, Jim