It appears as though spring is near, full-on blue skies, a warmth to the air that beckons me to open the windows and exchange winter’s stale air for spring’s fresh air. I leave them open at night too so as to waken with that fresh air crispness, similar to newly washed sheets, hung out to dry, then placed on the bed for a wondrous night’s slumber. Fresh air, open windows, the sounds of nature arriving with the gentle breeze.
Frank Sinatra he’s not, but if you should close your eyes, you would hear the welcoming song of the meadowlark, melodic and sweet, telling me summer is here. Wait…!! Take cover, here comes a hawk, duck down so as to not get discovered. The sound of the quail that can get so repetitively annoying, hearing it over and over and over again, oh how I do wish he would stop. Just then, the sound of the raven, be careful, the raven is near. Oh, wait, a robin’s chorus newly added, and who can forget the chick-a-dee-dee-dee. Must be a whole flock of birds sitting atop the power pole. I open my eyes…tis just one bird…singing his heart out…it’s the starling and his song of mimics…every morning, atop the power pole, he practices his notes of symmetry, sometimes bringing a new variety, a kildeer or perhaps a finch, oftentimes a very good replica that I have to look and see who’s there…ah, fooled again. Oh, how he does make me laugh.