Robins

I had my front and back doors open this evening, to air out the house after the woodstove went haywire and started belching sooty smoke from all its orifices. The dogs came in and wandered around, warily at first, then happily, cleaning the food off the dining room floor and chairs and delighting in the messes around Laz's and Maggie's spots. Lazarus ran outside and twirled around in a momentary drizzle, looking straight up and exclaiming, "RAIN, Mama! It's RAIN!" Maggie crawled right up to the threshold and kept reaching her hands out into the cool air, laughing and clapping as she watched her big brother sway and dance. And then, for just a moment, everyone paused, and we heard a robin singing its evening song. I always forget that song over the long winter -- it catches me by surprise every year, one late winter day, and a part of my soul that has been sleeping stirs and stretches and takes a deep breath, and I know spring is coming.