On a February day during an unusually mild winter, found myself missing the snowy beauty. I enjoyed the feeling that comes from watching snow fall gently from heaven while I'm cosy inside with a good fire burning in the stove. But there were more serious concerns, like the lack of rainfall making our woods more accessible to summer forest fires. Local ski fields and hotels, all dependent on a snowy season, felt sorry for the vacant lifts, empty restaurants and unused snowmobiles.
Then I happened to see three little robins (知更鸟) fly into our yard. What were they doing here? West of us, in the Willamette Valley, wild flowers burst this time of year. But here in central Oregon, even if a groundhog (土拨鼠) had wanted to appear, it couldn't have broken through the frozen earth. And yet, these robins had arrived.
Their presence brought me a flow of happiness. It felt like a celebration as I dug into my bag of birdseed and spread a handful on the ground. Above me, the deep blue sky was cloudless, perfectly quiet but for some smoke from a neighbor's chimney. The lively cold made the air fresh and clean.
My robins jumped lightly toward the seed. My soul jumped with them, feeling equally carefree. Caught up in the moment of spring fever, I checked our snowless flower beds. To my delight, I spotted a green branch sticking out through the brown soil.
Despite the cold, I wasn't ready to go back inside. Just a short meeting with those robins had renewed my spirit. The next day I would return to my outdoor work with a cheerful heart and a hopeful eye for these signs of spring.
