I wonder how the birds know when to come back, though. How do they know that it's safe again? How do they know if it's going to be one of the hardest, longest winters ever? My oldest son told me he thought I was as smart as a scientist. Little does he know. I thought the winter had gone two times over, yet it came back with a vengeance again and again. Snowpants were washed and packed away, not once, but twice. Snow days in April make me cry.
I think it's safe now. I think the birds can go about chirping and building their homes for their babies. I think I can come out of hibernation, too. I can come out of my cage and fly free again. Free from the shackles and chains of winter coats and layers of clothing and boots...it's too much. Slow and weighed down with too much baggage for one person to carry. I will never understand winter birds. And, maybe I wasn't meant to.