The mild air, sea-damp and briny, washes over me as I head out into the woods. Above me, I hear the flutter and rustle of first birds, branches waving as a stellar jay shrieks and takes flight. Pale green leaves unfurl on delicate branches, and the first fragile blossoms of bridal veil spirea unfold, weighted by raindrops. Around me, I hear the ancient creak of a solitary frog, the layers and layers of variegated birdsong, the clear green notes of an early robin.
Spring , in all its promise, in all its rapture, is on its way.
I only need to slow down and pay attention.