I was putting the final edits on the short story project when something unusual flew past my window. The flight pattern was low and straight, no swooping and coal-colored feathers. Not a familiar movement or size or color. It wasn't a sparrow, cardinal, blackbird or blue jay. I got up and peered into the front yard--in the direction it had flown. There in the honey locust was a skinny little robin!
A real live robin!
The kids tromped home from school and shed their winter coats before running back outside to mess around in the yard. They tried balancing on a huge chunk of ice in the creek as boys are prone to doing and eventually fell in, drenching their pants and filling their boots with frigid, stinky water.
They changed clothes and returned back outside after their feet warmed up. An hour later when it was time to retrieve Mr. T from softball practice, I had to take a moment to clear a path because ripsticks, basketballs and scooters littered the driveway.
Mr. T came out of practice grinning because he had fun and because his coach had given each player a coupon for the local ice cream place. "Can we go right now, Mom?" Minutes later I sat in the Momvan as he stood inside at the counter, surrounded by teammates, ordering his ice cream treat. Did I mention all the boys were wearing shorts?
We returned home where I found a trail of mud across the floor and the pile of soaked jackets and pants smelled funky. On my hands and knees with a rag I cleaned that muddy floor. Then I chased out the dog and started the first load of wash. It was 8 o'clock and finally dark outside.
I realized our garbage dumpster melted free from the glacier on the edge of our driveway. I received two baseball league emails and just like that it hit me:
Brace yourselves, everybody. This is my favorite time of year, so things are about to get a little zingy around here.
Spill it, reader. What are the sure signs of spring in your neck of the woods? Massive loads of wet, muddy clothes and puddles on the floor? Robins? A new sports schedule?