So here I am, leaning against the door jamb with a cup of cold caffeine that’s helping my eyes stay open on this chilly “Sprinter” morning.*  That’s the unofficial season between winter and spring, when the two season siblings have their only chance to catch up, to share moments together, to bring each other up to date on their lives before Winter goes on holiday and Spring gets to work.

Out of the corner of my eye, the bird of spring itself — a cheery red-breasted Robin — lands on the fence rail. A second follows, then a third. Each bird alights, one by one, in neighboring sections. It’s almost as though they’re queuing up like thoroughbreds at the gate, waiting for an official signal, for Winter to diminish and Spring to bust forth.

Like everyone, I’m ready for warmth to seep into my bones, for sun and light to flood my world, and for chlorophyll factories to gear up for work. but I’ve appreciated the beauty and rest of Winter, too. At the moment, this day is more wintry than springlike, except for three Robin Red-Breasts sitting on the fence out back.

I’m grateful for the warmth of those cheery birds who assure me that, yes, spring is here, but be patient. She’s companionable, and  Winter’s precious to her … just as precious as she is to Winter. So I’m good with that, with allowing time for the siblings to enjoy one another’s company for a bit. After all, the Robins are here. That’s good enough for me.

* Thanks, Jon Six, for introducing that word to me. It’s so very appropriate.