Listen to the Birdsong, Dear Fellow!

     I went out for a walk today to watch the snow melt. It is nearly gone. The sound of water running into the drains was welcome. There were other folks out too, walking dogs, soaking up the first drams of spring. We were all cheerful. And we weren’t the only ones; large flocks of Canada Geese were flying overhead. They had abandoned their pert vee formations and were floating in drifts of high joy, some of them floating so high they couldn't be seen—but I could still hear them. They were calling to one another over and over again. It sounded like a honking hallelujah chorus. I imagined them winking and grinning as they bathed themselves in the sun-drenched waves of boisterous blue air.

     It was too nice a day to go back in the house and fold laundry, so I played pickup sticks with the river birch in the front yard. It is a game we often play and after months of snow on the ground the birch tree was eager to win.

     As Irish Mise commented yesterday in response to a glum quote I posted by C.S. Lewis: “Listen to the birdsong, dear fellow!”

     Delighted to oblige.

painting of Canada Goose available on Etsy by Goosi