I love groundhogs

I packed up my snowmen this week.  It didn't even make me sad to put them away in their tote.  In fact, as I walked inside from nearly 70 degree temperatures, I decided that it seemed silly to have smiling frozen round men decorating my kitchen.  A part of me realizes that it is still only mid-February and spring doesn't actually begin for another month.  I figure though that the birds, trees and flowers know more about spring than a date on the calendar.

The birds have been singing increasingly happy songs each day.  The small "chirp" pause "chirp" have been replaced with full melodies, which I interpret as "spring is here, it's really here, come out and fly!"  Ok, now you're probably questioning my sanity in that I'm analyzing the meaning of a bird's song so let's move on. 

This week I noticed the first peeks of green popping from my wintered flower beds.  The beds are dingy, soggy, leaf covered and in great need of my hands digging through them.  Those little green sprouts reaching from the ground are calling out to me.  I believe that dirt is therapy and can't wait to get in there and be one with the earth!

Then, this morning as I was making coffee, something from outside the window caught my eye.  Were those tiny buds on our pear trees?  I squinted, peering intensely to be sure.  Why, yes it was.  Teeny cute bright green baby buds scattered across the trees.

It can't help but put a skip in my step at all these glorious signs of spring.  Sunshine warms my soul.  A bird's song lifts my spirits.  Soft petals from a new flower bud touch my heart.  I love watching the earth slowly stretch awake from it's winter slumber.