I'm thinking of all of you American friends who are shivering in single-digit temps or buried under a mountain of snow (pics, Amy?). Here, we're back to the ferocious winds of early January -- I need to remember to don hat and gloves for my walk this morning.
But when the gusts stop, there's a whole new feeling out there. It isn't just warmer (though it is that, with temps now lingering in the 40s instead of at a hair shy of freezing); no, it really even smells different. And that -- along with the tiny purple crocus buds I discovered tucked under the backyard shrubs -- is a lovely tonic.
Still, the best cheer-bringer of all might be the fellow in my garden that you can barely see in the twilight photo above. He's definitely singing a new, spring-y song (listen here).
(I am off to the stately c.1760 Paxton House ten minutes away, for a river walk followed by a pot of tea in the tea room. And possibly a scone. For energy. Okay, maybe the scone will precede the walk...)
Thank you so much for sharing the wee robin's song this morning. We both sighed deeply while listening to it as we sit bundled up, trying to talk ourselves into going out into the subzero temps this morning! Dave said it will be glorious when we hear spring bird songs again.
ReplyDeleteHe is a fiesty little bird, the Robin Red Breast.
ReplyDeleteAlways a sight to gladden the heart is Mr Robin.
ReplyDeleteLisa x