As I looked out my window this morning a sinking feeling swept through me. By the end of April I should be looking for the first dandelion poking through green grass. Not seeing a blizzard.
Scratching and banging against my house caught my attention, and I ran to the back door.
There, some lined up on the fence, and others clinging to a lilac skeleton, were a dozen tiny robins shivering in the wind. As if responding to a command they all took flight, landing on the barren Virginia Creeper branches clinging to my house. Instantly the dried purple berries disappeared and once more the robins hoovered together as if sharing warmth.
Their determination to survive regardless of overwhelming odds moved me to consider my own attitude and my head lowered in shame. Changed plans, procrastination, discouragement, were all reasons I can give, but to my little friends out my window, these are nothing but sounds they do not understand.