I Bind Unto Myself Today*

March swept in as either a lion or a lamb, but I can't recall which. We've huddled under covers in sub-zero chill and also watched the girls tromp muddy and barefoot through rivulets of melting snow since then, so I guess it doesn't really matter.   Change is in the air, though, sharp and tingling.

We saw a flock of robins wing over the house and settle on the front lawn yesterday.  Dozens of saucy red breasts hopped here and there, hunting for earthworms that stir in drowsy clumps beneath the surface.  I, too, am still and quiet, enjoying these last slow bits of winter because they'll soon be gone.

When it sails in, the warm air feels foreign and welcome, but raucous spring shakes things up with piles of newness and so much To Do-- new gardens, new flowerbeds, new growth, new projects, new chore lists, new state reports.  Ignoring those, I'm eager to shed shoes and throw open the windows, to wake in a cacophony of birdsong with a new baby making early morning noises by my side, his or her wee eyes scrunched in slants of golden light.

*Do yourself a favor and sing St. Patrick's Breastplate today.  It's probably my favorite hymn, so we'll do the same.