Spring in the Rain, Spring in the Birds

Photo credit: Vahid Moeini Jazani

Never have I felt grateful for the arrival of “Snow Becomes Rain” in quite this way before. This season of the lunisolar calendar nudges us to remember the fluidity of warmer days, when the strong frigid grip lessens, and we feel a bit more looseness in the atmosphere. With each raindrop, we feel moisture return, lessening the cruelness of the dry cold.

I must admit, my own reaction to this year’s winter has surprised me. As a self-proclaimed seasonal enthusiast, I have typically welcomed the cold, quiet days of January and February as a time of nourishing rest. And while these months are indeed proving very restful, there is a case to be made for spending too much time indoors. Yet the sheer notion of walking down the icy streets has kept me indoors. After weeks upon weeks of freezing temperatures, the snowdrifts have gradually turned into blocks of ice. Life is hidden away, and even the neighborhood cats have disappeared. The severity of this winter has been such that the cold makes you worry. So for now, when I see rain predicted in the forecast — instead of snow — I welcome it. The drops and drips which echo through the neighborhood, that sense of movement, of stretching out tight muscles. I hear spring in the rain.

I also hear spring in the birdsong. Somehow, now in February, their chirps feel more hopeful. Mayhaps these little tiny creatures have been singing all winter, but the only birdsong that comes to mind is the forlorn cry of the crow, which I see in abundance. Now, it is the wrens and sparrows I hear, and their high, short songs also echo through the neighborhood like the raindrops. Their voices are nourishing the sonic landscape. I look forward to even more birds, even more a cacophony — but for now, this small choir is enough. Enough to know life continues on. Life has made it through — is making it through the cold.