It's a little to early to do more in the gardens than rake and get ready, but pansies and their family are hardy enough to make it through our chilly spring. I planted two rustic old tin buckets with these happy little plants.
The hardy iris bulbs are putting leaves up.
And the peonies are shooting up in crimson glory.
All of these things make me happy, but what I notice most this time of year is the birds.
The male goldfinches have changed out their olive drab feathers for stunning canary yellow. They sing a happy little tune as they flit about.
Red-winged blackbirds are back from their migration, filling the air with their signature tumbling song.
A hungry Oriole stops in for a snack on it's way to nesting grounds further north.
My bluebird comes by each day, delighting me with his brilliant color and his voice.
When I wake up in the morning, I take time to just listen for a while. In the winter it is rare to hear birds call, except for the ever perky chickadees, who deedle around no matter the weather. But now that breeding season is here the air reverberates with songs of a dozen species. It is the gladdest sound.
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