Spring in north Alabama arrives in spurts, backtracks and hides in the folds of winter's icy coat, bursts forth out of nowhere with celebratory song, gets slapped around and cut down by Arctic clippers and finally, with an air of confidence that befits spring in a more southerly climate, settles in for a few short weeks before summer stomps in like a bargain-hunting bull in a going-out-of-business Waterford china shop.
Yesterday, as I gazed out the dining room French doors, questioning whether I should step into the chilly sunroom, I saw my next sign of spring (the first being the daffodils, marsh marigold, Star of Bethlehem, Lenten rose and daylilies poking their way up through fallen leaves) -- goldfinches in their winter attire, pecking at the nyjer bird seed feeders.
The birds arrived just in time for a cold snap due to freeze this part of the world over the next few days. Oh well, at least they give me hope that wherever they've been, they still like to stop by my backyard for nourishment in preparation for the rites of spring. Won't be long before hummingbirds come back. And although I like their profiles in the stark naked trees, crows will leave these woods soon, I'm sure, for warmer climes.
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