March 11

It is warm enough today for me to sit outside on the porch, out of the wind and where my chair sits in the full sun. It is a glorious day, and it is reviving to feel the sunshine on my face and to listen to the birdsong.

I sit maybe 20 feet from our feeder, and after several minutes of my being here, the chick-a-dees show no hesitation at coming and going. The nuthatch is decidedly curious, remaining just beyond in the break line of the trees between the feeder and the access road. Less gregarious than the chick-a-dee, the nuthatch makes a slight humming call, not so much a social call, but rather a singular pip, I think inquiring of me and my purpose here.

The snow continues to melt off the roof in earnest, and the chorus of chirps and dripping sounds and the warmth of the sun against my skin make the storm of days ago seem in the past.