This morning, I heard them. The window was slightly open while I meditated, and their chorus echoed in: Caw! Caw! Caw! A band of crows had gotten back together. Clearly, everyone had a lot to say. Whenever the cawing died down for a moment, one rusty fellow piped up, and off the whole gang went again. It was…fun, actually!
It’s been a weird winter. We barely had snow, but the few times we did, it was a mountain in one go. Then, it melted as quickly as it appeared. Temperatures bounced all over the place. Having suffered negative degrees centigrade a week ago, we’re coming on 17 this weekend.
But you know what cuts through the blur of weeks and months blending together? The moment the birds are back in town. The crows might only be a preview, for they don’t really migrate out of Germany, but as soon as I heard their song, I noticed something else: It was 7 AM, and it was bright enough for me to turn off the lights.
Every year, no matter how tumultuous, is punctuated by nature’s repeating patterns. Winged friends leave and return. Trees blossom in white for a week. The sun stops hiding. Notice time’s natural markers, and you can deliberately enjoy each new season.
