The forest is still too wet and soggy to do much walking through it. Just when I think the footing will be okay, I sink in mud. For the moment, I am staying to areas I’ve already found to be solid ground underneath, though each day I can venture a bit further.
Despite three days of 60 degree weather, I have yet to find any signs of new growth around the cabin. Not even coltsfoot, that dandelion look-alike, has yet made an appearance. Maybe today, maybe tomorrow. That event can’t be far off.
The first phoebe appears to be settling in at the cabin, its haunting call carries through the woods late in the evening and early in the morning. The last note lingers like a sweet perfume, hanging in the air.
I know towhees can’t be far behind, nor the blue-gray gnatcatchers nor the kinglets. The first spring arrivals appear slowly, one after the other, but before long the arrivals come in pairs or groups and are soon almost too many to count. Those days aren’t here yet, and the woods still feels calm and quiet.
The hectic pace of May is fun, but I enjoy the quiet of these days, too. I sit on the deck and little happens to catch my eye or distract me. The woods are still and silent, the air calm. The days are warm, but the evenings turn chilly quickly. Perhaps a Red-tailed Hawk will soar over the treetops before it is too dark to see. Perhaps not. The quiet alone is enjoyment enough.