Each day, I open the door to let the dogs out in the frozen tundra of our yard and am grateful I don't pee outside. Some mornings, I have to push them out because it is just too cold to go. I feel for them, sincerely. I live in a suburb, but my yard backs up to the Cleveland MetroParks. The sound of the woods in the winter is almost silent. Sometimes there is a rustling but not much else, aside from the traffic that passes down Valley Parkway. The woods are teeming with animals still, I'm sure, yet it seems the noisy ones are either hibernating or have flown south. There is not much stirring out there aside from a few deer. OK, more than a few deer.
This morning is gloomy and grey, but something is different; there is a stirring. I can faintly hear the river behind us rushing its way to open waters somewhere. Familiar birds have returned and are squawking, and there seemed to be movement aground, even without any breeze. Scurrying hungry little critters in the bramble, perhaps? As I write this, I hear geese. Geese!
The air seemed to be warmer and the smell was a little different too. I detected that fresh, oh so Spring-like scent of wet mud. Warm wet mud that will soon give way to little green things that, after so long of white and brown, are like soft kisses for the eyes.
I wasn't the only one who noticed, either. Normally, Chloe bounds off the back deck and drops to pee the instant her paws hit the lawn, while Penny daintily prances off the deck to sniff the yard and detect any intruders in the night before relieving herself. But not today. As I surveyed the changes and allowed the romance of Spring to swirl in my head, I glanced over and noticed both my girls standing with me on the deck, nostrils flaring, wistful expressions on their furry faces. I could only guess at the runs, swims, and chases they were imagining. We are all so ready for the Spring!
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