The cloud cover has lifted.
The storm has blown to sea.
We’ve got one egg this morning … finally.
Spring is on the calendar for next month.

The chickens in the coop are cackling softly. It’s dark in there, so they must be wondering if the snow storm is over. It is only a small flock of four, and none of them is a spring chicken, and yet they try their best to produce. Finding that single egg this morning was like finding a golden egg, that is how precious they are these days.

It’s approaching the crack of noon, and the sounds of nature are finally coming alive again after the snowstorm. It was a beautiful light snow, the kind that makes shoveling an easy task. It is so satisfying to stand in a cleared driveway with shovel in hand and observe one’s handiwork. The paths to the house and sheds are cleared. The storm has blown out to sea, and I can sense that the sun is struggling to make an appearance. All is quiet for that one moment, and then I hear a rooster’s crow in the distance. It is a common sound around here, but today I find its loud and clear call somehow reassuring. It fills me with hope that the birds are still alive, and that they can stay alive through this winter of flu for birds and man. It also fills me with wonder. Even though it is approaching midday, that sole rooster feels compelled to greet the return of daylight after the darkness of storm.

I’m thankful for the wild birds that still frequent the birdfeeder and for the red cardinal that makes a daily appearance in the Japonica bush by the living room window. It peers in quickly just to make sure I caught its flash of wild beauty. It seems to know that I need these small moments of reassurance on these dark days. Nature never disappoints. It is always there offering healing energy. It awaits patiently. If you are feeling despondent, step outside. Small moments of wonder are waiting for discovery.

“The morning wind forever blows, the poem of creation is uninterrupted; but few are the ears that hear it.” Henry David Thoreau ~ Walden