Mended

I'll say one thing for being sick: It gives you permission to nap. A lot.

Which is what I did on Tuesday when, ordinarily, I would have spent the day teaching. I napped, stared out the window, thought some deep thoughts and read some Jane Austen. It was that kind of day.

Today is the first official day of spring, allegedly. It's snowing here; we're supposed to get 2 to 4 inches before this latest storm moves on. But the red-winged blackbirds know that winter's days are up. I saw a flock of them descend on a field down the road yesterday, the sun shining on their black feathers and those brilliant patches of red.

No naps today. I'm back on my feet and I have to clean the fridge -- something I'd planned to do earlier this week (putting off housework is another perk of being sick).

So, happy first day of spring. May red-wings grace your neck of the woods, may you wake up to the song of house wrens and may you soon see the bright green tips of those crocuses you planted last fall poking through the soil (or at least see that 2-foot pile of snow in your yard withering away to a mere 4 or 5 inches).

Winter is dead. Long live the spring.