The Harbinger of Spring

This morning at 6 a.m., I could hear a robin in the leafless River Birch outside of our bedroom window. He was shouting loudly enough to be heard in spite of the tightly locked double-paned windows and the bedroom ceiling fan’s perpetual white noise. "Cheer up! Cheer up! Cheerily!” he shouted. “Cheer up, cheer up, cheerily, cheer up . . . ." He was urging the sun to rise in the predawn light above the mountains to the east. He made me happy. I couldn't help but smile inwardly.

When we lived in New Mexico, we didn’t have many robins. But we had Meadow Larks instead. I loved their song, too. And I miss them here. In Minnesota, we had the guttural chortle of Red-winged Blackbirds. But the real place for bird watching was Indiana. Early summer mornings in Indiana were incredible for birdsong—a glorious, tumultuous confusion of joy!

Actually, the Robins here in Orem can be seen year-round. But they don’t seem to sing much during the winter. They seem to save singing for Spring and Summer. That’s why this morning’s serenade by the "Harbinger of Spring" was so exquisitely sweet. The first day of Spring is this Friday.