My mornings are filled with subtle sounds. Nothing too piercing than the happy beep of coffee ready.
Birds sit outside the kitchen window testing out their spring vocals. Hesitant yet hopeful that warmth will come. This to the backdrop hum of the heating unit that is lulling everyone inside to stay in bed just a little longer.
I find hope in their songs too, despite any forwarning the weather man may have made. I'm choosing to embrace the soaring sound of creatures that will take to the sky at the first gust of heat in the air.
I stepped out on the deck, barefoot and in defiance of the chill that clings to the still damp wood, having never quite dried from the snow that only just melted away a week or so ago
The chickens run to the edge of their fence in hot pursuit of any special treat I might have ready for them. But I am only just standing at the wait for the sun to stretch it's reach past the clouds and high light the day. The song of that lone little bird is reaching higher too.