Cold winter rain notwithstanding, Friday morning (February 7) I swear that I heard the first, unmistakable chirps of spring.
Morning after morning, for months now, I have woken to the silence of nature—broken only by the swish of car tires, the tread of boots, the rattle of shopping carts, and the wail of emergency sirens.
Thursday was no different. But Friday morning there were songbirds!
Spring is coming—a little bird (song) told me
The rhythmic chirruping woke me up at 5:15 a.m. (It was such a remarkable thing to hear that I checked the time on my phone.)
For nearly an hour I stayed tucked in the warmth of my sleeping bag, dreamily listening to the overlapping bird calls.
When I did finally poke my head out into the chill air, just after 6 a.m.—dawn chorus notwithstanding—it still looked like pitch black night through the opening at the far end of my parkade sleeping spot.
And once I was outside the parkade in the cold rain it certainly looked and felt like winter (albeit a relatively mild Vancouver winter).
It was nice to imagine that I heard the first hint of spring in the bird song this morning but at the same time I realize this is still early February. Who knows if we’ve even heard the last of the winter snow?