The first spring Saturday took me and my tea mug into the yard. I settled into the dusty green lawn chair, grateful for the sky, happy for the warmth. Orion dragged his tie-out line through the still-brown grass, making it rustle as the wind will when it gets some length.
Robins sang an anthem to the sun. It sounded like the avian equivalent "Ode to Joy."
The Spouse brought one of the tractors to life with a sputter, a welcome sound after its winter nap inside a tarp den. Its engine settled into its customary growl as he rode it around the yard in a victory lap over the interminable cold.