It’s the last day of February. And somewhere not far away, a songbird is warbling his little heart out. This isn’t the all-winter brass section performance of trumpeting Canada geese. This is a determined little woodwind soloist, a perfectly ordinary spring song, an unseen fistsize bird announcing to the world at large that he’s back and ready to start this year’s family now that winter is over.
Only it’s still February. Very strange. I hope he’s not being too optimistic.