Snowdrops and robins

I had to go downtown today for the very mundane reason that I was almost out of Peridex and had to pick up another bottle from the dentist's office. I came home through the brown back yard, strewn with all the leaves last November's snow covered before I could mow them up; and glanced, by sheer habit, at the crumpled sodden leaves of one of last year's peonies. The snowdrops were up and blooming. They were not visible at all yesterday but today, there they were.

When I came upstairs I opened a lot of windows, and immediately heard the robins singing their evening song. The Cornell Ornithological Lab calls it their dawn song, and if Cornell says they sing it at dawn, then they do; but they also sing it in the evening, and sometimes when the sky darkens suddenly before a storm. In support of Cornell, I will add that they also sing it when the sun comes out after the storm is over.

I wish Minicon were earlier or later. Spring has come, and I don't want to sit around in a hotel. At least rain is forecast for part of the weekend.

Right now it's almost entirely clear except for some of those long, dark-gray clouds like islands, with Venus brightening above them.

Pamela