Winter Wren

On a pouring rain day at the end of February, a lone bright-red anemone, scattered crocus, and many snowdrops bloom in the garden. Hellebore cluster together on straight stems and bow their blossom heads. An acid spring-green colors a proliferation of not-yet-blooming forget-me-nots, the sharp spears of new crocosmia, and thick moss on garden bed edging logs and pavers. That newborn green shines against the dark gray of winter forest, and amid a discouraging amount of standing water.

Indoors, I consider the bird project – begun with my very favorite and one of the smallest – the winter wren (maybe finding its shape, but not yet background.)

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12 thoughts on “Winter Wren

    • Aah Jane, so me too, for real. And the little fellows (I assume the fellows) sing out, with such loud insistence and hope, their beautiful, melodic songs all through the woods these days – out of proportion to their tiny bodies. Truly is like the trees singing! so glad to hear from you – I feel the day can begin!

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