....hearing spring coming

Yogis,
My consciousness begins to be drawn from the deep dream it had so intricately woven in my mind. A myriad of colors, sensations and layers of a story that feel as real as me sitting here writing you this note. I can feel myself being extracted. That internal tug of war between longing to stay and the outer world calling for my attention. Something out there was pulling their end stronger than my urge to stay removed from the challenges of daily life.  

The birds…….

I’ve noticed over these past two weeks that the sound of early morning has changed. Where silence so recently sat, bird song now fills the air. As I lie there with my eyes still closed, I hear the singing of the wren and I know she has begun the search for this year’s home. The quiet chip of the cardinal and the excited boisterous chatter of my sparrows. They are excited to be up and out.

Spring must be coming……

I yawn, stretch, swing my legs off the bed and take my first step into the new day. I look at the clock. It is 7:12. It is 19 degrees out.

I hear the raspy caw of the crow and look out my window. He is standing in the grass under my birdfeeder, methodically cleaning up the spillage from yesterday’s feeding frenzy. Occasionally he looks up and squawks, puffing out his chest and lifting his wings in the process, making sure everyone within earshot knows that for this moment, this space is his alone.

Bundling up I add in my mittens and face warmer, mentally prepare myself, and head for the river. As I start down the street I hear something scurrying and watch a chipmunk run down a tire from inside a car engine and head towards the brush. Braving the cold like me instead of hibernating in her protected burrow.

Spring must be coming…….

Walking the path that traces the river’s edge a large group of ducks and I startle each other. In unison they spread their wings and lift from the water. Much quacking ensues and the geese nearby respond with their deep nasally honks. With the warmth of the sun on my face, when I close my eyes, it could be April.

I hear the squirrels busy digging through dried leaves trying to remember where the heck they buried those nuts last fall. And the sound of me picking up sticks to begin filling lawn bags.

Although we have cold days ahead, the movement toward to a new season has clearly begun. I can hear it. Can you?

Listening,
SARAH