The Birds Are Back in Town

At some point in every teacher's school year they will fall victim to a cold that knocks them flat. I have succumb to the inevitable. I am on day four of mine and am just starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Everyday we sit in close proximity to little people with runny noses, watery eyes, rashes, coughs, flu bugs, the list goes on and on. Miraculously, teachers have built a pretty strong immunity, I think it has something to do with survival of the fittest. However, there is that day when some of those germs make it through the force field and they go for the jugular.

I have spent the last two days home sick, which is particularly unusual for me. While dozing in a cough syrup stupor I noticed something. The birds are back! As sun streamed through the patio doors this morning, I saw them. Little brown bundles of joy hopping over the bare branches of the black walnut tree which dominates our backyard. I could hear them chirping to one another. As Finnigan and I jockeyed for space in the sunbeam we watched as they flitted to and fro, both of us fascinated with their antics, albeit for widely different reasons. Finnigan is my cat. We have four wooden bird houses positioned around our yard. The sparrows were in and out of them, spring cleaning and calling 'dibs.' There were many heated arguments over the prime real estate in our yard. Out with the old twigs, papers, grasses and such as the busy birds worked tirelessly to empty the houses in preparation. Piles of old nesting materials litter the snow covered yard. If the birds are spring cleaning, could this mean spring really is just around the corner?

Yes, today was a sick day, but it was a sick day with a silver lining. It brings to mind that Sunday School favourite, His Eye is On The Sparrow. My eyes were on the sparrows today and they brought me more joy and relief than any cold remedy I have tried to date!

It's Snowing Again......

You know your emotions are too close to the surface when a Saturday morning snowstorm make you cry. There I stood, tears flowing, blood boiling, cursing the snow.

In reflection, I couldn't chalk my outburst up to my dreading more shoveling, that chore falls to my husband. Although the untouched depths are approaching eighteen inches (sorry, I have not yet adopted centimetres) and the snowbanks are over my head, it was not the accumulation that had me down.

I couldn't even rationalize away the tears because I would be delayed in getting out to get the carload of groceries we needed. Nope, my neighbourhood store is open twenty-four hours if I were so inclined.

After the tears dried, after the red eyes cleared I acknowledged that I was craving spring. This year, more than any other, I NEED spring. My disappointment this morning was all linked to my anticipation of the freshness, the renewal, the hope that comes as the snow melts away.

I am unable to pinpoint the exact moment when I equated spring with hope and new life, but I do. That hope seemed so far out of my grasp this morning as the flakes fell silently, blanketing the earth. After my reflection, my mint tea and hugs from my family I was humbly reminded that I am in no position to question. There is a season for everything and the miracle of spring cannot be rushed.