This is open window weather and I've noted the time, each morning, the first bird has sung. It averages about 5:30. Often a wren begins the daily arboreal concert. This morning was raining that delicious steady thrumming kind of drowsy wonderful spring rain. So the birds slept in a bit. The first to sing was a wood thrush, at about 6:10. Ever heard a wood thrush sing?

Last night I got to hear the fiddle of an old local legend sing again briefly. I sat in an auditorium and the music hit me emotionally, almost hard enough to bruise. I listened with tears pouring down my cheeks, recalling sweeter days--as spring days will often seem.