On a bright and chilly morning after a weekend of storms, the promise of Spring is murmured in little things. The flocks of migrating birds that filled the yards, the feeders, and the trees in the woods beyond for a few weeks seem to have moved on. A solitary male cardinal sits in the bare limbs of the Rose of Sharon. The hummingbird feeders will go up soon.

When I opened the blinds a few days ago, six blue jays were gathered on the grass, feeding peacefully amidst a couple of cardinals. I’ve never seen six bluejays together before. A covey of crows fussed from high in the pines and the smaller birds were busy on the edges. It was a peaceable kingdom until Lulu the chihuahua bounded out for her morning constitutional.

The foliage of lilies to come peeks out from the straw in the flower bed. Perhaps their blooms will coincide with this year’s late Easter. I thinned out the lilies after last year’s bloom but it appears they have multiplied again.

 A closer look at the Rose of Sharon yields the buds beginning to pop forth. The foliage down the mountain is slowly emerging, but the busy intersection at the foot of the mountain is still clearly visible through the trees. Soon, the thick foliage down the mountain will make the intersection vanish in a curtain of green.

There is an appealing subtlety to Spring. It’s constantly sneaking up on us. One day the crocus bloom and just as quickly they’re gone in a couple of weeks. I have just noticed the blooms have popped out on the pine trees. A neighbor’s Carolina jasmine, pronounced dead after a hard late freeze a couple of years ago, is back and blooming more lushly than ever.

Finding the beauty and blatant symbolism in the heralds of Spring brings peace and tranquility and, always, a hope for better days to come.