The weather of this first week of March has not felt particularly springlike (never mind that cold, gray, and spitting snow are what we generally get the first week of March, so expecting anything different is one of those human quirks....). However, spring is definitely on its way, and we know this not just because the daffodil and magnolia buds are getting fat and I am now cooking supper while it's still light outside.
It's the birds! Our feathered friends are singing up a storm, including all those cheerful little songs that we only hear when young birds' fancies turn to thoughts of love, or whatever birds call the urge to pair-bond. Assorted trills, warbles, buzzes, and general cascades of notes are sounding from every tree, bush, and wall around here. (Note to self: take a class on birding by ear as soon as retirement leaves time for such things--hope the hearing holds out for at least the next year as it is not what it once was. Kind of like the eyesight, and the joints, and the memory. . . .)
Hang in there, human friends. Winter will end.