high then low
spring time comes when the  
chickadees sing.

A house at the end of a small valley, just a few neighbors down the road, and acres of forest to play in. No alarm clocks, just the light of the rising sun and the conversations of birds outside my bedroom window. All winter the sounds are muffled as the world is blanketed in snow. Tucked under my favorite quilt to wait in anticipation.

Spring does not come to the Midwest with the first snow thaw or seedlings pushing through the earth. It’s not marked by the Spring Equinox or the celebration of Easter. Some brave cardinals and a robin or two may make an appearance at the porch railing. It’s almost time to put out the feeders to invite them from the woods once more. 

high, low, dee, dee, dee  
cheerful and with the heart of a child  
spring is finally here

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