The call of the wild

It is that time of year when Howard and I begin arguing over whether or not it is spring. I always want to jump the gun and say it is. And Howard has this complicated theory whereby February is parallel to December, something like that, and so we cannot expect any improvement any time soon.

But this morning the sky is bright blue! And yesterday I heard the call of the chickadee.

I remembered how last year, I had learned what the chickadee was, because I had described the two-note call. And my friend Liz Savino had checked in and told me that was what it was.

Working on the life of Leonard Pennario I have become adept at checking dates and years and occurrences. So I made it a priority to check back and see the exact date I heard the chickadee last year. And guess what? It was Feb. 15, four days earlier than this year!

So much for my early spring.

Because I do not remember last spring being especially early.

But still. The air feels different. The light feels different. Mornings are brighter. It is funny how it can be 25 degrees and you do not feel you need a hat or gloves.

There I go again!

Ever the optimist!