The end of March has come, not in green or yellow hues, but in bold reds.
A dogwood twig stands in contrast to the soft white fuzz of the pussy willow.
A male cardinal sings from our leafless lilac branches before dawn
loudly staking claim to his spring territory.
House finches sing sweetly from the tree tops, an unmistakable and welcome spring melody.
A small flock of Redpolls spent time today at our feeders on their way north to the boreal forests.
We have never had Redpolls in our yard and I have not seen one for four winters now.
Safe spring travels to you and your mate.
Winter has come to an end and spring is here.